One morning towards the end of March the squire rapped at the window of the drawing-room of the Small House in which Mrs Dale and Lily were sitting. He had a letter in his hand, and both Lily and her mother knew that he had come down to speak about the contents of the letter. It was always a sign of good-humour on the squire's part, this rapping at the window. When it became necessary to him in his gloomy moods to see his sister-in-law, he would write a note to her, and she would go across to him at the Great House. At other times, if, as Lily would say, he was just then neither sweet nor bitter, he would go round to the front door and knock, and be admitted after the manner of ordinary people; but when he was minded to make himself thoroughly pleasant he would come and rap at the drawing-room window, as he was doing now.
'I'll let you in, uncle; wait a moment,' said Lily, as she unbolted the window which opened out upon the lawn. 'It's dreadfully cold, so come in as fast as you can.'
'It's not cold at all,' said the squire. 'It's more like spring than any morning we've had yet. I've been sitting without a fire.'
'You won't catch us without one for the next two months; will he, mamma?
You have got a letter, uncle. Is it for us to see?'
'Well--yes; I've brought it down to show you. Mary, what do you think is going to happen?'
A terrible idea occurred to Mrs Dale at that moment, but she was much to wise to give it expression. Could it be possible that the squire was going to make a fool of himself and get married? 'I am very bad at guessing,' said Mrs Dale. 'You had better tell us.'
'Bernard is going to be married,' said Lily.
'How did you know?' said the squire.
'I didn't know. I only guessed.'
'Then you've guessed right,' said the squire, a little annoyed at having his news thus taken out of his mouth.
'I am so glad,' said Mrs Dale; 'and I know from your manner that you like the match.'
'Well--yes. I don't know the young lady, but I think that upon the whole I do like it. It's quite time, you know, that he got married.'
'He's not thirty yet,' said Mrs Dale.
'He will be in a month or two.'
'And who is it, uncle?'
'Well;--as you're so good at guessing, I suppose you can guess that?'
'It's not that Miss Partridge he used to talk about?'
'No; it's not Miss Partridge--I'm glad to say. I don't believe that the Partridges have a shilling among them.'
'Then I suppose it's an heiress,' said Mrs Dale.
'No; not an heiress; but she will have some money of her own. And she had connexions in Barsetshire, which makes it pleasant.'
'Connexions in Barsetshire! Who can it be?' said Lily.
'Her name is Emily Dunstable,' said the squire, 'and she is the niece of Miss Dunstable who married Dr Thorne and who lives at Chaldicotes.'
'She was the woman who had millions upon millions,' said Lily, 'and all got by selling ointment.'
'New mind how it was got,' said the squire angrily. 'Miss Dunstable married most respectably, and has always made a most excellent use of her money.'
'And will Bernard's wife have all her fortune?' asked Lily.
'She will have twenty thousand pounds the day she marries, and I suppose that will be all.'
'And quite enough, too,' said Mrs Dale.
'It seems that old Mr Dunstable, as he was called, who, as Lily says, sold the ointment, quarrelled with his son or with his son's widow, and left nothing either to her or to her child. The mother is dead, and the aunt, Dr Thorne's wife, has always provided for the child. That's how it is, and Bernard is going to marry her. They are to be married at Chaldicotes in May.'
'I am delighted to hear it,' said Mrs Dale.
'I've known Dr Thorne for the last forty years;' and the squire now spoke in a low melancholy tone. 'I've written to him to say that the young people shall have the old place up there to themselves if they like it.'
'What! And turn you out?' said Mrs Dale.
'That would not matter,' said the squire.
'You'd have to come and live with us,' said Lily, taking him by the hand.
'It doesn't matter much now where I live,' said the squire.
'Bernard would never consent to that,' said Mrs Dale.
'I wonder whether she will ask me to be a bridesmaid?' said Lily.
'They'd sat that Chaldicotes is such a pretty place, and I should see all the Barsetshire people that I've been hearing about from Grace. Poor Grace! I know that the Grantlys and the Thornes are very intimate. Fancy Bernard having twenty thousand pounds from the making of ointment!'
'What does it matter where it comes from?' said the squire, half in anger.
'Not in the least; only it sounds so odd. I do hope she's a nice girl.'
Then the squire produced a photograph of Emily Dunstable which his nephew had sent to him, and they all pronounced her to be very pretty, very much like a lady, and to be very good-humoured. The squire was evidently pleased with the match, and therefore the ladies were pleased also. Bernard Dale was the heir to the estate, and his marriage was of course a matter of moment; and as on such properties as that of Allington money is always wanted, the squire may be forgiven for the great importance which he attached to the young lady's fortune. 'Bernard could hardly have married prudently without any money,' he said--'unless he had chosen to wait till I am gone.'
'And then he would have been too old to marry at all,' said Lily.
But the squire's budget of news had not yet been emptied. He told them soon afterwards that he himself had been summoned up to London. Bernard had written to him, begging him to come and see the young lady; and the family lawyer had written also, saying that his presence in town would be very desirable. 'It is very troublesome, of course; but I shall go,' said the squire. 'It will do you all the good in the world,' said Mrs Dale; 'and of course you ought to know her personally before the marriage.' And then the squire made a clean breast of it and declared his full purpose. 'I was thinking that, perhaps, Lily would not object to go up to London with me.'
'Oh, uncle Christopher, I should so like it,' said Lily.
'If your mamma does not object.'
