“She will never get a better lover.”

Mrs Dale sat silent, thinking over it all.  Every word that the squire said was true.  It would be a healing of wounds most desirable and salutary; an arrangement advantageous to them all; a destiny for Lily most devoutly to be desired,—­if only it were possible.  Mrs Dale firmly believed that if her daughter could be made to accept John Eames as her second lover in a year or two all would be well.  Crosbie would then be forgotten or thought of without regret, and Lily would become the mistress of a happy home.  But there are positions which cannot be reached, though there be no physical or material objection in the way.  It is the view which the mind takes of a thing which creates the sorrow that arises from it.  If the heart were always malleable and the feelings could be controlled, who would permit himself to be tormented by any of the reverses which affection meets?  Death would create no sorrow, ingratitude would lose its sting; and the betrayal of love would do no injury beyond that which it might entail upon worldly circumstances.  But the heart is not malleable; nor will the feelings admit of such control.

“It is not possible for her,” said Mrs Dale.  “I fear it is not possible.  It is too soon.”

“Six months,” pleaded the squire.

“It will take years,—­not months,” said Mrs Dale.

“And she will lose all her youth.”

“Yes; he has done all that by his treachery.  But it is done, and we cannot now go back.  She loves him yet as dearly as she ever loved him.”

Then the squire muttered certain words below his breath,—­ ejaculations against Crosbie, which were hardly voluntary; but even as involuntary ejaculations were very improper.  Mrs Dale heard them, and was not offended either by their impropriety or their warmth.  “But you can understand,” she said, “that she cannot bring herself to go there.”  The squire struck the table with his fist, and repeated his ejaculations.  If he could only have known how very disagreeable Lady Alexandrina was making herself, his spirit might, perhaps, have been less vehemently disturbed.  If, also, he could have perceived and understood the light in which an alliance with the de Courcy family was now regarded by Crosbie, I think that he would have received some consolation from that consideration.  Those who offend us are generally punished for the offence they give; but we so frequently miss the satisfaction of knowing that we are avenged!  It is arranged, apparently, that the injurer shall be punished, but that the person injured shall not gratify his desire for vengeance.

“And will you go to Guestwick yourself?” asked Mrs Dale.

“I will take the note,” said the squire, “and will let you know to-morrow.  The earl has behaved so kindly that every possible consideration is due to him.  I had better tell him the whole truth, and go or stay, as he may wish.  I don’t see the good of going.  What am I to do at Guestwick Manor?  I did think that if we had all been there it might have cured some difficulties.”