as a miracle of constancy,--who had, herself, in former
days been so unfortunate in love as to have been regarded among her
friends in the country as the most ill-used of women. As John Eames
had been able to be comfortable in life,--that is to say, not utterly
a wretch,--in spite of his love, so had she managed to hold up her
head, and live as other young women live, in spite of her misfortune.
But as it may be said also that his constancy was true constancy,
although he knew how to enjoy the good things of the world, so also
had her misfortune been a true misfortune, although she had been able
to bear it without much outer show of shipwreck. For a few days--for
a week or two, when the blow first struck her, she had been knocked
down, and the friends who were nearest to her had thought that she
would never again stand erect upon her feet. But she had been very
strong, stout at heart, of a fixed purpose, and capable of resistance
against oppression. Even her own mother had been astonished, and
sometimes almost dismayed, by the strength of her will. Her mother
knew well how it was with her now; but they who saw her frequently,
and who did not know her as her mother knew her,--the Mrs. Boyces of
her acquaintance,--whispered among themselves that Lily Dale was not
so soft of heart as people used to think.

On the next day, Christmas Day, as the reader will remember, Grace
Crawley was taken up to dine at the big house with the old squire.
Mrs. Dale's eldest daughter, with her husband, Dr. Crofts, was to be
there; and also Lily's old friend, who was also especially the old
friend of Johnny Eames, Lady Julia De Guest. Grace had endeavoured to
be excused from the party, pleading many pleas. But the upshot of all
her pleas was this,--that while her father's position was so painful
she ought not to go out anywhere. In answer to this, Lily Dale,
corroborated by her mother, assured her that for her father's sake
she ought not to exhibit any such feeling; that in doing so, she
would seem to express a doubt as to her father's innocence. Then she
allowed herself to be persuaded, telling her friend, however, that
she knew the day would be very miserable to her. "It will be very
humdrum, if you please," said Lily. "Nothing can be more humdrum than
Christmas at the Great House. Nevertheless, you must go."

Coming out of church, Grace was introduced to the old squire. He
was a thin, old man, with grey hair, and the smallest possible gr