"But we wouldn't rob the dear old place," said Lily.
"For the matter of that what does it signify? T' squire'll be that wretched he'll turn sheep in here to destroy the place, or he'll have the garden ploughed. You see if he don't. As for the place, the place is clean done for, if you leave it. You don't suppose he'll go and let the Small House to strangers. T' squire ain't one of that sort any ways."
"Ah me!" exclaimed Mrs. Dale, as soon as Hopkins had taken himself off.
"What is it, mamma? He's a dear old man, but surely what he says cannot make you really unhappy."
"It is so hard to know what one ought to do. I did not mean to be selfish, but it seems to me as though I were doing the most selfish thing in the world."
"Nay, mamma; it has been anything but selfish. Besides, it is we that have done it; not you."
"Do you know, Lily, that I also have that feeling as to breaking up one's old mode of life of which Hopkins spoke. I thought that I should be glad to escape from this place, but now that the time has come I dread it."
"Do you mean that you repent?"
Mrs. Dale did not answer her daughter at once, fearing to commit herself by words which could not be retracted. But at last she said, "Yes, Lily; I think I do repent. I think that it has not been well done."
"Then let it be undone," said Lily.