daughters.
Had she not feared their reproaches she would, even now, have given
way.

"I do not know what I ought to say to you for your kindness."

"Say nothing,--either for my kindness or unkindness; but stay where
you are, and let us live like Christians together, striving to
think good and not evil." These were kind, loving words, showing in
themselves a spirit of love and forbearance; but they were spoken in
a harsh, unsympathising voice, and the speaker, as he uttered them,
looked gloomily at the fire. In truth the squire, as he spoke, was
half-ashamed of the warmth of what he said.

"At any rate I will not think evil," Mrs Dale answered, giving him
her hand. After that she left him, and returned home. It was too late
for her to abandon her project of moving and remain at the Small
House; but as she went across the garden she almost confessed to
herself that she repented of what she was doing.

In these days of the cold early spring, the way from the lawn into
the house, through the drawing-room window, was not as yet open, and
it was necessary to go round by the kitchen-garden on to the road,
and thence in by the front door; or else to pass through the back
door, and into the house by the kitchen. This latter mode of entrance
Mrs Dale now adopted; and as she made her way into the hall Lily came
upon her, with very silent steps, out from the parlour, and arrested
her progress. There was a smile upon Lily's face as she lifted up
her finger as if in caution, and no one looking at her would have
supposed that she was herself in trouble. "Mamma," she said, pointing
to the drawing-room door, and speaking almost in a whisper, "you must
not go in there; come into the parlour."

"Who's there? Where's Bell?" and Mrs Dale went into the parlour as
she was bidden. "But who is there?" she repeated.

"He's there!"

"Who is he?"

"Oh, mamma, don't be a goose! Dr Crofts is there, of course. He's
been nearly an hour. I wonder how he is managing, for there is
nothing on earth to sit upon but the old lump of a carpet. The room
is strewed about with crockery, and Bell is such a figure! She has
got on your old checked apron, and when he came in she was rolling up
the fire-irons in brown paper. I don't suppose she was ever in such a
mess before. There's one thing certain,--he can't kiss her hand."

"It's you are the goose, Lily."

"But he's in there certainly, unless he has gone out through the
window, or up the chimney."