. But supposing Mr. Crawley
to be as honest as the sun, you wouldn't wish Henry to marry his
daughter."

"Certainly not," said the mother. "It would be an unfitting marriage.
The poor girl has no advantages."

"He is not able even to pay his baker's bill. I always though Arabin
was very wrong to place such a man in such a parish as Hogglestock.
Of course the family could not live there." The Arabin here spoken of
was Dr. Arabin, dean of Barchester. The dean and the archdeacon had
married sisters, and there was much intimacy between the families.

"After all it is only rumour, as yet," said Mrs. Grantly.

"Fothergill told me only yesterday, that he sees her almost every
day," said the father. "What are we to do, Griselda? You know how
headstrong Henry is." The marchioness sat quite still, looking at the
fire, and made no immediate answer to his address.

"There is nothing for it, but that you should tell him what you
think," said the mother.

"If his sister were to speak to him, it might do much," said the
archdeacon. To this Mrs. Grantly said nothing; but Mrs. Grantly's
daughter understood very well that her mother's confidence in her was
not equal to her father's. Lady Hartletop said nothing, but still
sat, with impassive face, and eyes fixed upon the fire. "I think
that if you were to speak to him, Griselda, and tell him that he
would disgrace his family, he would be ashamed to go on with such a
marriage," said the father. "He would feel, connected as he is with
Lord Hartletop--"

"I don't think he would feel anything about that," said Mrs. Grantly.

"I dare say not," said Lady Hartletop.

"I am sure he ought to feel it," said the father. They were all
silent, and sat looking at the fire.

"I suppose, papa, you allow Henry an income," said Lady Hartletop,
after a while.

"Indeed I do,--eight hundred a year."

"Then I think I should tell him that that must depend upon his
conduct. Mamma, if you won't mind ringing the bell, I will send
for Cecile, and go upstairs and dress." Then the marchioness went
upstairs to dress, and in about an hour the major arrived in his
dog-cart. He also was allowed to go upstairs to dress before anything
was said to him about his great offence.

"Griselda is right," said the archdeacon, speaking to his wife out of
his dressing-room. "She is always right. I never knew a young woman
with more sense than Griselda."

"But you do not mean to say that in any event you would stop