"But you, who are so affectionate by nature, would never adhere to it."
"I will try. I will do my best to be firm. I will at once put everything beyond my control after my death." The archdeacon, as he uttered these terrible words,—words which were awful to Lady Lufton's ears,—resolved that he would endeavour to nurse his own wrath; but, at the same time, almost hated himself for his own pusillanimity, because he feared that his wrath would die away before he should have availed himself of its heat.
"I would do nothing rash of that kind," said Lady Lufton. "Your object is to prevent the marriage,—not to punish him for it when once he has made it."
"He is not to have his own way in everything, Lady Lufton."
"But you should first try to prevent it."
"What can I do to prevent it?"
Lady Lufton paused for a couple of minutes before she replied. She had a scheme in her head, but it seemed to her to savour of cruelty. And yet at present it was her chief duty to assist her old friend, if any assistance could be given. There could hardly be a doubt that such a marriage as this, of which they were speaking, was in itself an evil. In her case, the case of her son, there had been no question of a trial, of money stolen, of aught that was in truth disgraceful. "I think if I were you, Dr. Grantly," she said, "that I would see the young lady while I was here."
"See her myself?" said the archdeacon. The idea of seeing Grace Crawley himself had, up to this moment, never entered his head.
"I think I would do so."
"I think I will," said the archdeacon, after a pause. Then he got up from his chair. "If I am to do it, I had better do it at once."