Mrs Dale got up to leave him, but she could not go without saying some word of gratitude for all that he had attempted to do for them.  She well knew what he meant by the curing of difficulties.  He had intended to signify that had they lived together for a week at Guestwick the idea of flitting from Allington might possibly have been abandoned.  It seemed now to Mrs Dale as though her brother-in-law were heaping coals of fire on her head in return for that intention.  She felt half-ashamed of what she was doing, almost acknowledging to herself that she should have borne with his sternness in return for the benefits he had done to her daughters.  Had she not feared their reproaches she would, even now, have given way.

“I do not know what I ought to say to you for your kindness.”

“Say nothing,—­either for my kindness or unkindness; but stay where you are, and let us live like Christians together, striving to think good and not evil.”  These were kind, loving words, showing in themselves a spirit of love and forbearance; but they were spoken in a harsh, unsympathising voice, and the speaker, as he uttered them, looked gloomily at the fire.  In truth the squire, as he spoke, was half-ashamed of the warmth of what he said.

“At any rate I will not think evil,” Mrs Dale answered, giving him her hand.  After that she left him, and returned home.  It was too late for her to abandon her project of moving and remain at the Small House; but as she went across the garden she almost confessed to herself that she repented of what she was doing.

In these days of the cold early spring, the way from the lawn into the house, through the drawing-room window, was not as yet open, and it was necessary to go round by the kitchen-garden on to the road, and thence in by the front door; or else to pass through the back door, and into the house by the kitchen.  This latter mode of entrance Mrs Dale now adopted; and as she made her way into the hall Lily came upon her, with very silent steps, out from the parlour, and arrested her progress.  There was a smile upon Lily’s face as she lifted up her finger as if in caution, and no one looking at her would have supposed that she was herself in trouble.  “Mamma,” she said, pointing to the drawing-room door, and speaking almost in a whisper, “you must not go in there; come into the parlour.”

“Who’s there?  Where’s Bell?” and Mrs Dale went into the parlour as she was bidden.  “But who is there?” she repeated.

“He’s there!”

“Who is he?”

“Oh, mamma, don’t be a goose!  Dr Crofts is there, of course.  He’s been nearly an hour.  I wonder how he is managing, for there is nothing on earth to sit upon but the old lump of a carpet.  The room is strewed about with crockery, and Bell is such a figure!  She has got on your old checked apron, and when he came in she was rolling up the fire-irons in brown paper.  I don’t suppose she was ever in such a mess before.  There’s one thing certain,—­he can’t kiss her hand.”