The Last Chronicle of Barset

he would offer his hand to Miss Crawley on the next morning. This, however, he had not done. He had not done it, partly because he did not quite believe his father's t

o be, and in some respects a great deal superior to that type of womanhood with which they had been most generally conversant. "If everybody had her due, my sister isn't fit to hold a candle to her," he said to himself. It must be acknowledged, therefore, that he was really in love with Grace Crawley; and he declared to himself, over and over again, that his family had no right to demand that he should marry a woman with money. The archdeacon's son by no means despised money. How could he, having come forth as a bird fledged from such a nest

But he carried the argument beyond this, thinking much of the matter, and endeavouring to think of it not only justly, but generously. If the accusation against Crawley were false,-if the man were being injured by an unjust charge,-even if he, Grantly, could make himself think that the girl's father had not stolen the money, then he would dare everything and go on. I do not know that his argument was good, or that his mind was logical in the matter. He ought to have felt that his own judgment as to the m

idge, including the Miss Prettymans, were aware that Mr. Walker had been very kind both to Mr. and Mrs. Crawley, and argued from this that Mr. Walker must think the man to be innocent. But Henry Grantly, who did not dare to ask a direct question of the solicitor, went cunningly to work, and closeted himself with Mrs. Walker,-with Mrs. Walker, who knew well of the good fortune which was hovering over Grace's head and was so nearly settling itself upon her shoulders. She would have given a finger to be able to whitewash Mr. Crawley in

ng was required; and opinion in Barchester,-at any rate in the county-club,-seemed now to be all of one mind. There had been every disposition at first to believe Mr. Crawley to be innocent. He had been believed to be innocent, even after he had said wrongly that the cheque had been paid to him by Mr. Soames; but he had since stated that he had received it from Dean Arabin, and that statement was

t he would so bind himself. And Miss Prettyman could not but be aware of what his intention had been, and could not but expect that he should now be explicit. Had he been a wise man altogether, he would probably have abstained from saying anything at the present moment,-a wise man, that is, in the ways and feelings of the world in such matters. But, as there are men who will allow themselves all imaginable latitude in their treatment of wom

he not throw over his own people altogether, money, position, society, and all, and give himself up to love? Were he to do so, men might say that he was foolish, but no one could hint that he was dishonourable. His spirit was high enough to teach him to think that such c

ssist his suit or to receive his apologies. Miss Anne Prettyman was too common a personage in the Silverbridge world to be fit for such employment. Miss Anne Prettyman was, ind

I think so. It is a little early,

ut as I want to say a w

our, ran upstairs with her message to her sister. "Of course it's about Grace Crawley," she said to herself as she went. "It can't be about anything else. I wonder what it is he's going to say. If he's going

red Anne, as soon as Grace h

ng her not to go into the ha

pose he can have only one thing to say after all that h

me for that. He would ha

es out now, and h

Miss Prettyman. "But of course he must come up now he is h

han necessary, with the servants, you know.

ailing. "As he has asked to see me, I think you had better not," said Annabella. Miss Anne Prettyman bore her cross meekly, offered no argument on the subject, an

Miss Prettyman, as has before been said, did not go out, and was therefore not common to the eyes of the Silverbridgians. She did occasionally see her friends in her own house, and Grace Crawley's lover, as the major had come to be called, had been ther

and asked him to sit down. "My sister tells me that you

eak to you about a matter that trou

t I can do, M

to come to you. Indeed I shouldn't trouble you now, of course, if it was onl

e love Grace

he was obliged to go on. "I don't know whether you have ever heard about it, or noticed it, or-or-or-" He felt that he was very awkward, and he blushed. Major as he was, he blushed as he sat before th

affair, Major Gran

you may

is as innocent in the m

so, Miss

pounds! It is not possible, Major Grantly. And the father of such a daughter, too! It is not possible. It may do for men of business to think so, lawyers and such like, who are obliged to think in accordance with t

me to say to her, and to upbraid him already in that he was not prepared to do the magnificent thing of which he had thought when he had been building his castles in the air. Why shoul

asked, desirous of postponing for a wh

course. Not that she th

does not thin

e woman, very imperiously. "But Grace is, naturally enough, very sa

nking of it,"

ial for her. Do you wish me to giv

eak. I fear that what he said will not be approved by any strong-minded reader. I fear that our lover will henceforth be considered by such a one as being but a weak, wishy-wa

n I tell you that? How can

rds," he said; "

ell the feelings

d. A fortnight ago I was only thinking whether she would accept me when I asked her,-wonder

nd of Edith,-ve

should he not do the magnificent thing after all? "But

It is for you to think whether you should

fear about

ll, thoroughly, and are quite sure that she will do her duty

the character almost gratefully, though he felt that he was being led away from his purpose. He consoled himself for this, however, by remembering that the path by which Miss Prettyman was now leading him, led to the ma

I do for you,

I ought not

such trust in her judgment that I should

own father broken-hearted. But now there was hardly an alternative left to him. And was it not the manly thing for him to do? He had loved the girl before this trouble had come upon her,

either of them, that an offer of marriage should be made at such a moment as this? It might be very well, in regard to some future time, that the major should have so committed himself. She saw something of the man's spirit, and believed that, having gone so far,-having so far told his love, he would return to his love hereafter, let the result of the Crawley trial be what it might. But,-but, this could be no proper time for love-making. Though Grace loved the man, as Miss Prettyman knew well,-though Grace loved the child, having allowed herself to long to call it her own, though such a marriage would be the making of Grace's fortune as those who loved her could hardly have hoped that it should ever have been made

she would

uld feel, that these hours of her father's sorrow are not hours in which love s

these words from Miss Prettyman with new charms and brighter virtues than he had seen before. Let come what might he would ask her to be his wife on

will be the

new before this

so, Major

ended to ask he

they have gone,-though I am not at all disposed to interfere with any girl whom I believe to be pure and good as I know her to be,-b

yself right with y

rted gentleman, and I hope that our Grace may live to be your happy wife, and the mother of your darli

ou give Gra

at you have inquired after her with the greatest kindness. S

her; I mean in the way of-money? I don't m

myself I feel no doubt that the mystery will be cleared up at last; and the

d, but in such a whisper that any sharp-eared maid-servant could hear and understand them. "Is it settled," she asked when her sister had ascended only the first flight of stairs;-"has he popped?" The look with which the elder sister punished and dismayed the younger, I would not have borne for twenty pounds. She simply looked, and said nothing, but passed on. When she ha

ween them need not be repeated here word for word; but it may be understood that Miss Prettyman said

siderate friendship, or more like

said Grace. Then Grace went away, and Miss Prettyman sat awhile in thoug

the necessity of marrying the daughter of a thief, should things turn out badly in regard to the father. But,-and this but robbed him of all the pleasure which comes from real success,-but he had not treated Grace Crawley with the perfect generosity which love owes, and he was in some degree ashamed of himself. He felt, however, that he might probably have Grace, should he choose to