"It is good of you to think of her," said the mother; "very good."
"I think a great deal about her," said the squire. "But that does not much matter now. The fact is, that she has declined Bernard's offer."
"Has Bernard offered to her?"
"So he tells me; and she has refused him. It may perhaps be natural that she should do so, never having taught herself to look at him in the light of a lover. I don't blame her at all. I am not angry with her."
"Angry with her! No. You can hardly be angry with her for not being in love with her cousin."
"I say that I am not angry with her. But I think she might undertake to consider the question. You would like such a match, would you not?"
Mrs. Dale did not at first make any answer, but began to revolve the thing in her mind, and to look at it in various points of view. There was a great deal in such an arrangement which at the first sight recommended it to her very strongly. All the local circumstances were in its favour. As regarded herself it would promise to her all that she had ever desired. It would give her a prospect of seeing very much of Lily; for if Bell were settled at the old family house, Crosbie would naturally be much with his friend. She liked Bernard also; and for a moment or two fancied, as she turned it all over in her mind, that, even yet, if such a marriage were to take place, there might grow up something like true regard between her and the old squire. How happy would be her old age in that Small House, if Bell with her children were living so close to her!
"Well?" said the squire, who was looking very intently into her face.
"I was thinking," said Mrs. Dale. "Do you say that she has already refused him?"
"I am afraid she has; but then you know—"