going on, and he knew it.  Dr Crofts was already in treaty on their behalf for a small furnished house at Guestwick.  The squire was very sad about it,—­very sad indeed.  When Hopkins spoke to him on the subject, he sharply desired that faithful gardener to hold his tongue, giving it to be understood that such things were not to be made matter of talk by the Allington dependants till they had been officially announced.  With Bell during these visits he never alluded to the matter.  She was the chief sinner, in that she had refused to marry her cousin, and had declined even to listen to rational counsel upon the matter.  But the squire felt that he could not discuss the subject with her, seeing that he had been specially informed by Mrs Dale that his interference would not be permitted; and then he was perhaps aware that if he did discuss the subject with Bell, he would not gain much by such discussion.  Their conversation, therefore, generally fell upon Crosbie, and the tone in which he was mentioned in the Great House was very different from that assumed in Lily’s presence.

“He’ll be a wretched man,” said the squire, when he told Bell of the day that had been fixed.

“I don’t want him to be wretched,” said Bell.  “But I can hardly think that he can act as he has done without being punished.”

“He will be a wretched man.  He gets no fortune with her, and she will expect everything that fortune can give.  I believe, too, that she is older than he is.  I cannot understand it.  Upon my word, I cannot understand how a man can be such a knave and such a fool.  Give my love to Lily.  I’ll see her to-morrow or the next day.  She’s well rid of him; I’m sure of that;—­though I suppose it would not do to tell her so.”

The morning of the fourteenth came upon them at the Small House, as comes the morning of those special days which have been long considered, and which are to be long remembered.  It brought with it a hard, bitter frost,—­a black, biting frost,—­such a frost as breaks the water-pipes, and binds the ground to the hardness of granite.  Lily, queen as she was, had not yet been allowed to go back to her own chamber, but occupied the larger bed in her mother’s room, her mother sleeping on a smaller one.

“Mamma,” she said, “how cold they’ll be!” Her mother had announced to her the fact of the black frost, and these were the first words she spoke.

“I fear their hearts will be cold also,” said Mrs Dale.  She ought not to have said so.  She was transgressing the acknowledged rule of the house in saying any word that could be construed as being inimical to Crosbie or his bride.  But her feeling on the matter was too strong, and she could not restrain herself.

“Why should their hearts be cold?  Oh, mamma, that is a terrible thing to say.  Why should their hearts be cold?”

“I hope it may not be so.”

“Of course you do; of course we all hope it.  He was not cold-hearted, at any rate.  A man is not cold-hearted, because he does not know himself.  Mamma, I want you to wish for their happiness.”