“I have guessed as much.”

“And I suppose the match will come off.  She’s a pretty girl, and as good as gold.”

“Yes, she is.”

“I don’t pretend to be very much in love with her.  It’s not my way, you know.  But, some of these days, I shall ask her to have me, and I suppose it’ll all go right.  The governor has distinctly promised to allow me eight hundred a year off the estate, and to take us in for three months every year if we wish it.  I told him simply that I couldn’t do it for less, and he agreed with me.”

“You and he get on very well together.”

“Oh, yes!  There’s never been any fal-lal between us about love, and duty, and all that.  I think we understand each other, and that’s everything.  He knows the comfort of standing well with the heir, and I know the comfort of standing well with the owner.”  It must be admitted, I think, that there was a great deal of sound, common sense about Bernard Dale.

“What will he do for the younger sister?” asked Crosbie; and, as he asked the important question, a close observer might have perceived that there was some slight tremor in his voice.

“Ah! that’s more than I can tell you.  If I were you, I should ask him.  The governor is a plain man, and likes plain business.”

“I suppose you couldn’t ask him?”

“No; I don’t think I could.  It is my belief that he will not let her go by any means empty-handed.”

“Well, I should suppose not.”

“But remember this, Crosbie,—­I can say nothing to you on which you are to depend.  Lily, also, is as good as gold; and, as you seem to be fond of her, I should ask the governor, if I were you, in so many words, what he intends to do.  Of course, it’s against my interest, for every shilling he gives Lily will ultimately come out of my pocket.  But I’m not the man to care about that, as you know.”

What might be Crosbie’s knowledge on this subject we will not here inquire; but we may say that it would have mattered very little to him out of whose pocket the money came, so long as it went into his own.  When he felt quite sure of Lily,—­having, in fact, received Lily’s permission to speak to her uncle, and Lily’s promise that she would herself speak to her mother,—­he did tell the squire what was his intention.  This he did in an open, manly way, as though he felt that in asking for much he also offered to give much.

“I have nothing to say against it,” said the squire.

“And I have your permission to consider myself as engaged to her?”

“If you have hers and her mother’s.  Of course you are aware that I have no authority over her.”

“She would not marry without your sanction.”