Whatever I have said I have always meant to be for your good." Then
Alice got up, and kissing her aunt, tried to explain to her that she
resented no interference from her, and felt grateful for all that she
both said and did; but that she could not endure meddling from people
whom she did not know, and who thought themselves entitled to meddle
by their rank.

"And because they are cousins as well," said Lady Macleod, in a
softly sad, apologetic voice.

Alice left Cheltenham about the middle of November on her road to
Matching Priory. She was to sleep in London one night, and go down to
Matching in Yorkshire with her maid on the following day. Her father
undertook to meet her at the Great Western Station, and to take her
on the following morning to the Great Northern. He said nothing in
his letter about dining with her, but when he met her, muttered
something about an engagement, and taking her home graciously
promised that he would breakfast with her on the following morning.

"I'm very glad you are going, Alice," he said when they were in the
cab together.

"Why, papa?"

"Why?--because I think it's the proper thing to do. You know I've
never said much to you about these people. They're not connected with
me, and I know that they hate the name of Vavasor;--not but what the
name is a deal older than any of theirs, and the family too."

"And therefore I don't understand why you think I'm specially right.
If you were to say I was specially wrong, I should be less surprised,
and of course I shouldn't go."

"You should go by all means. Rank and wealth are advantages, let
anybody say what they will to the contrary. Why else does everybody
want to get them?"

"But I shan't get them by going to Matching Priory."

"You'll get part of their value. Take them as a whole, the nobility
of England are pleasant acquaintances to have. I haven't run after
them very much myself, though I married, as I may say, among them.
That very thing rather stood in my way than otherwise. But you may be
sure of this, that men and women ought to grow, like plants, upwards.
Everybody should endeavour to stand as well as he can in the world,
and if I had a choice of acquaintance between a sugar-baker and a
peer, I should prefer the peer,--unless, indeed, the sugar-baker
had something very strong on his side to offer. I don't call that
tuft-hunting, and it does not necessitate toadying. It's simply
growing up, towards the light, as the trees d