ney came, so long as it went into his
own. When he felt quite sure of Lily,--having, in fact, received
Lily's permission to speak to her uncle, and Lily's promise that she
would herself speak to her mother,--he did tell the squire what was
his intention. This he did in an open, manly way, as though he felt
that in asking for much he also offered to give much.

"I have nothing to say against it," said the squire.

"And I have your permission to consider myself as engaged to her?"

"If you have hers and her mother's. Of course you are aware that I
have no authority over her."

"She would not marry without your sanction."

"She is very good to think so much of her uncle," said the squire;
and his words as he spoke them sounded very cold in Crosbie's ears.
After that Crosbie said nothing about money, having to confess to
himself that he was afraid to do so. "And what would be the use?"
said he to himself, wishing to make excuses for what he felt to be
weak in his own conduct. "If he should refuse to give her a shilling
I could not go back from it now." And then some ideas ran across his
mind as to the injustice to which men are subjected in this matter of
matrimony. A man has to declare himself before it is fitting that he
should make any inquiry about a lady's money; and then, when he has
declared himself, any such inquiry is unavailing. Which consideration
somewhat cooled the ardour of his happiness. Lily Dale was very
pretty, very nice, very refreshing in her innocence, her purity,
and her quick intelligence. No amusement could be more deliciously
amusing than that of making love to Lily Dale. Her way of flattering
her lover without any intention of flattery on her part, had put
Crosbie into a seventh heaven. In all his experience he had known
nothing like it. "You may be sure of this," she had said,--"I
shall love you with all my heart and all my strength." It was very
nice;--but then what were they to live upon? Could it be that he,
Adolphus Crosbie, should settle down on the north side of the New
Road, as a married, man, with eight hundred a year? If indeed the
squire would be as good to Lily as he had promised to be to Bell,
then indeed things might be made to arrange themselves.

But there was no such drawback on Lily's happiness. Her ideas about
money were rather vague, but they were very honest. She knew she had
none of her own, but supposed it was a husband's duty to find what
would be needful. She knew sh