society of both sisters--an
event likely to happen almost immediately, unless he should so act as to
retain them. He dwelt upon Hester's beauty, her superiority of mind to
every woman but one whom he had known, her attachment to himself; her
dependence upon him. He pondered these things till the tone of his mind
was lowered, and too many superficial feelings mingled with the
sacredness of the transaction, and impaired its integrity. Under their
influence he decided what to do.

He had no intention, all this while, of taking Mrs Grey's word for the
whole matter, without test or confirmation. From the beginning, he was
aware that his first step must be to ascertain that she was not
mistaken. And this was his first step.

There were two obvious methods of proceeding. One was to consult Mr
Grey, who stood in the place of guardian to these girls, as to the
probability of his success with Hester, in case of his proposing himself
to her. The other was to ask the same question of Margaret. The
advantage of speaking to Mr Grey was, that he might not be bound to
proceed, in case of Mr Grey differing from his lady's view of the case;
but then, Mr Grey was perhaps unaware of the real state of Hester's
mind. From Margaret there was certainty of hearing nothing but the
truth, however little of it her feelings for her sister might allow her
to reveal; but such a conversation with her would compel him to proceed:
all retreat would be cut off after it; and he naturally shrank from
conversing with Margaret, of all people, on this subject. But Hope was
equal to any effort which he thought a matter of duty; and he resolved
not to flinch from this. He would speak first to Mr Grey; and if Mr
Grey did not undertake to answer for Hester's indifference, he would
seek an interview with Margaret. If Margaret should encourage his
advances on her sister's behalf; the matter was decided. He should have
a wife who might be the pride of any man,--whom it would be an honour to
any man to have attached. If, as was still just possible, Margaret
should believe that her sister felt no peculiar regard for him, he
thought he might intimate so much of the truth as, without offending her
feelings on her sister's account, would secure for him freedom to
reconsider his purposes. No man disliked more than he so circuitous a
method of acting in the most important affair of life. He had always
believed that, in the case of a genuine and virtuous at