their heads at the same time, hinting that Mr Crosbie’s life in London was not all that it should be, and suggesting that she might have been more safe had she been content to bestow herself upon some country neighbour of less dangerous pretensions.  Others declared that it was no such great match after all.  They knew his income to a penny, and believed that the young people would find it very difficult to keep a house in London unless the old squire intended to assist them.  But, nevertheless, Lily was envied as she rode through the town with her handsome lover by her side.

And she was very happy.  I will not deny that she had some feeling of triumphant satisfaction in the knowledge that she was envied.  Such a feeling on her part was natural, and is natural to all men and women who are conscious that they have done well in the adjustment of their own affairs.  As she herself had said, he was her bird, the spoil of her own gun, the product of such capacity as she had in her, on which she was to live, and, if possible, to thrive during the remainder of her life.  Lily fully recognised the importance of the thing she was doing, and, in soberest guise, had thought much of this matter of marriage.  But the more she thought of it the more satisfied she was that she was doing well.  And yet she knew that there was a risk.  He who was now everything to her might die; nay, it was possible that he might be other than she thought him to be; that he might neglect her, desert her, or misuse her.  But she had resolved to trust in everything, and, having so trusted, she would not provide for herself any possibility of retreat.  Her ship should go out into the middle ocean, beyond all ken of the secure port from which it had sailed; her army should fight its battle with no hope of other safety than that which victory gives.  All the world might know that she loved him if all the world chose to inquire about the matter.  She triumphed in her lover, and did not deny even to herself that she was triumphant.

Mrs Eames was delighted to see them.  It was so good in Mr Crosbie to come over and call upon such a poor, forlorn woman as her, and so good in Captain Dale; so good also in the dear girls, who, at the present moment, had so much to make them happy at home at Allington!  Little things, accounted as bare civilities by others, were esteemed as great favours by Mrs Eames.

“And dear Mrs Dale?  I hope she was not fatigued when we kept her up the other night so unconscionably late?” Bell and Lily both assured her that their mother was none the worse for what she had gone through; and then Mrs Eames got up and left the room, with the declared purpose of looking for John and Mary, but bent, in truth, on the production of some cake and sweet wine which she kept under lock and key in the little parlour.

“Don’t let’s stay here very long,” whispered Crosbie.

“No, not very long,” said Lily.  “But when you come to see my friends you mustn’t be in a hurry, Mr Crosbie.”