“I don’t know,” said Griselda, looking down upon the ground.
Mrs. Grantly thought that this upon the whole was rather a good opening. It might have been better. Some point of interest more serious in its nature than that of a waltz might have been found on which to connect her daughter’s sympathies with those of her future husband. But any point of interest was better than none; and it is so difficult to find points of interest in persons who by their nature are not impulsive.
“Lady Lufton says so, at any rate,” continued Mrs. Grantly, ever so cautiously. “She thinks that Lord Lufton likes no partner better. What do you think yourself, Griselda?”
“I don’t know, mamma.”
“But young ladies must think of such things, must they not?”
“Must they, mamma?”
“I suppose they do, don’t they? The truth is, Griselda, that Lady Lufton thinks that if— Can you guess what it is she thinks?”
“No, mamma.” But that was a fib on Griselda’s part.
“She thinks that my Griselda would make the best possible wife in the world for her son; and I think so too. I think that her son will be a very fortunate man if he can get such a wife. And now what do you think, Griselda?”
“I don’t think anything, mamma.”