and then Fanny had agreed with her. Could it be possible that even she must be regarded as an enemy?
And then, by degrees, Lady Lufton began to reflect what steps she had better take. In the first place, should she give in at once, and consent to the marriage? The only thing quite certain to her was this, that life would not be worth having if she were forced into a permanent quarrel with her son. Such an event would probably kill her. When she read of quarrels in other noble families—and the accounts of such quarrels will sometimes, unfortunately, force themselves upon the attention of unwilling readers—she would hug herself with a spirit that was almost pharisaical, reflecting that her destiny was not like that of others. Such quarrels and hatreds between fathers and daughters, and mothers and sons, were in her eyes disreputable to all the persons concerned. She had lived happily with her husband, comfortably with her neighbors, respectably with the world, and, above all things, affectionately with her children. She spoke every where of Lord Lufton as though he were nearly perfect, and in so speaking she had not belied her convictions. Under these circumstances, would not any marriage be better than a quarrel?
But then, again, how much of the pride of her daily life would be destroyed by such a match as that! And might it not be within her power to prevent it without any quarrel? That her son would be sick of such a chit as Lucy before he had been married to her six months—of that Lady Lufton entertained no doubt, and therefore her conscience would not be disquieted in disturbing the consummation of an arrangement so pernicious. It was evident that the matter was not considered as settled even, by her son, and also evident that he regarded the matter as being in some way dependent on his mother's consent. On the whole, might it not be better for her—better for them all, that she should think wholly of her duty, and not of the disagreeable results to which that duty might possibly lead? It could not be her duty to accede to such an alliance, and therefore she would do her best to prevent it. Such, at least, should be her attempt in the first instance.
Having so decided, she next resolved on her course of action. Immediately on her arrival at Framley, she would send for Lucy Robarts, and use all her eloquence—and perhaps also a little of that stern dignity for which she
