“Coming courting! I’ve done nothing to make him,” Grace exclaimed.
“’Twasn’t necessary that you should, ’Tis voluntary that rules in these things....Well, he has behaved very honorably, and asked my consent. You’ll know what to do when he gets here, I dare say. I needn’t tell you to make it all smooth for him.”
“You mean, to lead him on to marry me?”
“I do. Haven’t I educated you for it?”
Grace looked out of the window and at the fireplace with no animation in her face. “Why is it settled off-hand in this way?” said she, coquettishly. “You’ll wait till you hear what I think of him, I suppose?”
“Oh yes, of course. But you see what a good thing it will be.”
She weighed the statement without speaking.
“You will be restored to the society you’ve been taken away from,” continued her father; “for I don’t suppose he’ll stay here long.”
She admitted the advantage; but it was plain that though Fitzpiers exercised a certain fascination over her when he was present, or even more, an almost psychic influence, and though his impulsive act in the wood had stirred her feelings indescribably, she had never regarded him in the light of a destined husband. “I don’t know what to answer,” she said. “I have learned that he is very clever.”
“He’s all right, and he’s coming here to see you.”