About this time Grace Crawley received two letters, the first of them reaching her while John Eames was still at the cottage, and the other immediately after his return to London. They both help to tell our story, and our reader shall, therefore, read them if he so please--or, rather, he shall read the first and as much of the second as is necessary for him. Grace's answer to the first letter he shall see also.
Her answer to the second will be told in a very few words. The first was from Major Grantly, and the task of answering that was by no means easy for Grace.
'COSBY LODGE,--February, 186-'DEAREST GRACE, 'I told you when I parted from you, that I should write to you, and I think it best to do so at once, in order that you may fully understand me. Spoken words are soon forgotten,'--'Ishall never forget his words,' Grace had said to herself as she read this;--'and are not always as plain as they might be. Dear Grace, I suppose I ought not to say so, but I fancied when Iparted from you at Allington, that I had succeeded in making myself dear to you. I believe you to be so true in spirit, that you were unable to conceal from me the fact that you love me. Ishall believe that it is so, till I am deliberately and solemnly assured by yourself that it is not so;--and I conjure you to think what is due both to yourself and to myself, before you allow yourself to think of making such an assurance unless it be strictly true.
'I have already told my friends that I have asked you to be my wife. I tell you this, in order that you may know how little effect your answer to me has had towards inducing me to give you up. What you said about your father and your family has no weight with me, and ought ultimately to have none with you.
This business of your father's great misfortune--so great, that probably, had we not known each other before it happened, it might have prevented our becoming intimate when we chanced to meet. But we had met before it happened, and before it happened I had determined to ask you to be my wife. What should I have to think of myself if I allowed my heart to be altered by such a cause as that?
'I have only further to say that I love you better than anyone in the world, and that it is my best hope that you will be my wife. I will not press you further till this affair of your father's has been settled; but when that is over, I shall look for my reward without reference to its result. Not that I doubt the result if there be anything like justice in England; but that your debt to me, if you owe me any debt, will be altogether irrespective of that. If, as I suppose, you will remain at Allington for some time longer, I shall not see you till after the trial is over. As soon as that is done, I will come to you wherever you are. In the meantime I shall look for an answer to this; and if it be true that you love me, dear, dear Grace, pray have the courage to tell me so.--Most affectionately your own, 'HENRY GRANTLY' When the letter was given to Grace across the breakfast-table, both Mrs Dale and Lily suspected that it came from Major Grantly, but not a word was spoken about it. When Grace with hesitating hand broke the envelope, neither of her friends looked at her. Lily had a letter of her own, and Mrs Dale opened the newspaper. But still it was impossible not to perceive that her face became red with blushes, and then they knew that the letter must be from Major Grantly. Grace herself could not read it, though her eye ran down over the two pages catching a word here and there. She had looked at the name at once, and had seen the manner of his signature. 'Most affectionately your own'! What was she to say to him? Twice, thrice, as she sat at the breakfast-table she turned the page of the letter, and at each turning she read the signature. And she read the beginning, 'Dearest Grace'. More than that she did not really read till she had got the letter away with her into the seclusion of her own room.
Not a word was said about the letter at breakfast. Poor Grace went on eating or pretending to eat, but could not bring herself to utter a word. Mrs Dale and Lily spoke of various matters, which were quite indifferent to them; but even with them the conversation was so difficult that Grace felt it to be forced, and was conscious that they were thinking about her and her lover. As soon as she could make an excuse she left the room, and hurrying upstairs took the letter from her pocket and read it in earnest.
'That was from Major Grantly, mamma,' said Lily.
'I daresay it was, my dear.'
'And what had we better do; or what had we better say?'
'Nothing--I should say. Let him fight his own battle. If we interfere, we may probably only make her more stubborn in clinging to her old idea.'
'I think she will cling to it.'
'For a time she will, I daresay. And it will be the best that she should. He himself will respect her for it afterwards.' Thus it was agreed between them that they should say nothing to Grace about the letter unless Grace should first speak to them.
