e is a favour, a great favour, and great generosity," Mrs Dale
had replied. "And I have never been too proud to accept it; but when
I tell you that we think we shall be happier at Guestwick, you will
not refuse to let us go. Lily has had a great blow in that house,
and Bell feels that she is running counter to your wishes on her
behalf,--wishes that are so very kind!"
"No more need be said about that. All that may come right yet, if you
will remain where you are."
But Mrs Dale knew that "all that" could never come right, and
persisted. Indeed, she would hardly have dared to tell her girls that
she had yielded to the squire's entreaties. It was just then, at that
very time, that the squire was, as it were, in treaty with the earl
about Lily's fortune; and he did feel it hard that he should be
opposed in such a way by his own relatives at the moment when he was
behaving towards them with so much generosity. But in his arguments
about the house he said nothing of Lily, or her future prospects.
They were to move on the first of May, and one week of April was
already past. The squire had said nothing further on the matter after
the interview with Mrs Dale to which allusion has just been made. He
was vexed and sore at the separation, thinking that he was ill-used,
by the feeling which was displayed by this refusal. He had done his
duty by them, as he thought; indeed more than his duty, and now they
told him that they were leaving him because they could no longer bear
the weight of an obligation conferred by his hands. But in truth he
did not understand them; nor did they understand him. He had been
hard in his manner, and had occasionally domineered, not feeling that
his position, though it gave him all the privileges of a near and a
dear friend, did not give him the authority of a father or a husband.
In that matter of Bernard's proposed marriage he had spoken as though
Bell should have considered his wishes before she refused her cousin.
He had taken upon himself to scold Mrs Dale, and had thereby given
offence to the girls, which they at the time had found it utterly
impossible to forgive.
But they were hardly better satisfied in the matter than was he; and
now that the time had come, though they could not bring themselves to
go back from their demand, almost felt that they were treating the
squire with cruelty. When their decision had been made,--while it
had been making,--he had been stern and hard to them. Since
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