"It is the cleanest and the sweetest and the fairest hand in Barsetshire," said the major. Mrs. Crawley could not restrain herself, but running up to him, took his hand in hers and kissed it.
"There is unfortunately a stain, which is vicarial," began Mr. Crawley, sustaining up to that point his voice with Roman fortitude,—with a fortitude which would have been Roman had it not at that moment broken down under the pressure of human feeling. He could keep it up no longer, but continued his speech with broken sobs, and with a voice altogether changed in its tone,—rapid now, whereas it had before been slow,—natural, whereas it had hitherto been affected,—human, whereas it had hitherto been Roman. "Major Grantly," he said, "I am sore beset; but what can I say to you? My darling is as pure as the light of day,—only that she is soiled with my impurity. She is fit to grace the house of the best gentleman in England, had I not made her unfit."
"She shall grace mine," said the major. "By God, she shall!—to-morrow, if she'll have me." Mrs. Crawley, who was standing beside him, again raised his hand and kissed it.
"It may not be so. As I began by saying,—or rather strove to say, for I have been overtaken by weakness, and cannot speak my mind,—I cannot claim authority over my child as would another man. How can I exercise authority from between a prison's bars?"
"She would obey your slightest wish," said Mrs. Crawley.
"I could express no wish," said he. "But I know my girl, and I am sure that she will not consent to take infamy with her into the house of the man who loves her."
"There will be no infamy," said the major. "Infamy! I tell you that I shall be proud of the connexion."
"You, sir, are generous in your prosperity. We will strive to be at least just in our adversity. My wife and children are to be pitied,—because of the husband and the father."
"No!" said Mrs. Crawley. "I will not hear that said without denying it."
"But they must take their lot as it has been given to them," continued he. "Such a position in life as that which you have proposed to bestow upon my child would be to her, as regards human affairs, great elevation. And from what I have heard,—I may be permitted to add also from what I now learn by personal experience,—such a marriage would be laden with fair promise of future happiness. But if you ask my mind, I think that my child is not free to make it. You, sir, have many relatives, who are not in love, as you are, all of whom would be
