“Well, I should rather think it might!” Lady Lufton did not say this out loud, but she thought it. Mrs. Grantly was absolutely speaking of a match between her daughter and Lord Lufton as though she would have displayed some amount of Christian moderation in putting up with it! Griselda Grantly might be a very nice girl; but even she—so thought Lady Lufton at the moment—might possibly be priced too highly. “Dear Mrs. Grantly,” she said, “I have foreseen for the last few days that our mutual hopes in this respect would not be gratified. Lord Lufton, I think;—but perhaps it is not necessary to explain— Had you not come up to town I should have written to you,—probably to-day. Whatever may be dear Griselda’s fate in life, I sincerely hope that she may be happy.” “I think she will,” said Mrs. Grantly, in a tone that expressed much satisfaction. “Has—has anything—” “Lord Dumbello proposed to Griselda the other night, at Miss Dunstable’s party,” said Mrs. Grantly, with her eyes fixed upon the floor, and assuming on the sudden much meekness in her manner; “and his lordship was with the archdeacon yesterday, and again this morning. I fancy he is in Mount Street at the present moment.” “Oh, indeed!” said Lady Lufton. She would have given worlds to have possessed at the moment sufficient self-command to have enabled her to express in her tone and manner unqualified satisfaction at the tidings. But she had not such self-command, and was painfully aware of her own deficiency. “Yes,” said Mrs. Grantly. “And as it is all so far settled, and as I know you are so kindly anxious about dear Griselda, I thought it right to let you know at once. Nothing can be more upright, honourable, and generous, than Lord Dumbello’s conduct; and, on the whole, the match is one with which I and the archdeacon cannot but be contented.” “It is certainly a great match,” said Lady Lufton. “Have you seen Lady Hartletop yet?” Now Lady Hartletop could not be regarded as an agreeable connection, but this was the only word which escaped from Lady Lufton that could be considered in any way disparaging, and, on the whole, I think that she behaved well. “Lord Dumbello is so completely his own master that that has not been necessary,” said Mrs. Grantly. “The marquis has been told, and the archdeacon will see him either to-morrow or the day after.” There was nothing left for Lady Lufton but to congratulate her friend, and this she did in words perhaps not very sincere, but which, on the whole, were not badly chosen. “I am sure I hope she will be very happy,” said Lady Lufton, “and I trust that the alliance”—the word was very agreeable to Mrs. Grantly’s ear—“will give unalloyed gratification to you and to her father. The position which she is called to fill is a very splendid one, but I do not think that it is above her merits.”