“She never says a word against him; but if she really liked him she would sometimes say a word in his favour.  I do not think she would ever mention his name unless you or I spoke of him before her.  If she did not approve of him, why did she not say so sooner?”

“That’s hardly fair upon mamma,” said Bell, with some earnestness.  “She does not disapprove of him, and she never did.  You know mamma well enough to be sure that she would not interfere with us in such a matter without very strong reason.  As regards Mr Crosbie, she gave her consent without a moment’s hesitation.”

“Yes, she did.”

“How can you say, then, that she disapproves of him?”

“I didn’t mean to find fault with mamma.  Perhaps it will come all right.”

“It will come all right.”  But Bell, though she made this very satisfactory promise, was as well aware as either of the others that the family would be divided when Crosbie should have married Lily and taken her off to London.

On the following morning Mrs Dale and Bell were sitting together.  Lily was above in her own room, either writing to her lover, or reading his letter, or thinking of him, or working for him.  In some way she was employed on his behalf, and with this object she was alone.  It was now the middle of October, and the fire was lit in Mrs Dale’s drawing-room.  The window which opened upon the lawn was closed, the heavy curtains had been put back in their places, and it had been acknowledged as an unwelcome fact that the last of the summer was over.  This was always a sorrow to Mrs Dale; but it is one of those sorrows which hardly admit of open expression.

“Bell,” she said, looking up suddenly; “there’s your uncle at the window.  Let him in.”  For now, since the putting up of the curtains, the window had been bolted as well as closed.  So Bell got up, and opened a passage for the squire’s entrance.  It was not often that he came down in this way, and when he did do so it was generally for some purpose which had been expressed before.

“What! fires already?” said he.  “I never have fires at the other house in the morning till the first of November.  I like to see a spark in the grate after dinner.”

“I like a fire when I’m cold,” said Mrs Dale.  But this was a subject on which the squire and his sister-in-law had differed before, and as Mr Dale had some business in hand, he did not now choose to waste his energy in supporting his own views on the question of fires.

“Bell, my dear,” said he, “I want to speak to your mother for a minute or two on a matter of business.  You wouldn’t mind leaving us for a little while, would you?” Whereupon Bell collected up her work and went upstairs to her sister.  “Uncle Christopher is below with mamma,” said she, “talking about business.  I suppose it is something to do with your marriage.”  But Bell was wrong.  The squire’s visit had no reference to Lily’s marriage.