said nothing further to Grace Crawley about Major Grantly. It was not
that she thought that Mr Crawley was guilty, but she knew enough of the
world to be aware that suspicion of such guilt might compel such a man
as Major Grantly to change his mind. 'If he had only popped,' Anne said
to her sister,' it would have been all right. He would never have gone
back from his word.' 'My dear,' said Annabella, 'I wish you would not
talk about popping. It is a terrible word.' 'I shouldn't, to anyone
except you,' said Anne.

There had come to Silverbridge some few months since, on a visit to Mrs
Walker, a young lady from Allington, in the neighbouring county, between
whom and Grace Crawley there had grown up from circumstances a warm
friendship. Grace had a cousin in London--a clerk high up and
well-to-do in a public office, a nephew of her mother's--and this cousin
was, and for years had been, violently smitten in love for this young
lady. But the young lady's tale had been sad, and though she
acknowledged feelings of the most affectionate friendship for the
cousin, she could not bring herself to acknowledge more. Grace Crawley
had met the young lady at Silverbridge, and words had been spoken about
the cousin; and though the young lady from Allington was some years
older than Grace, there had grown up to be a friendship, and, as is not
uncommon between young ladies, there had been an agreement that they
would correspond. The name of the lady was Miss Lily Dale, and the name
of the well-to-do cousin was Mr John Eames.

At the present moment Miss Dale was at home with her mother at
Allington, and Grace Crawley in her terrible sorrow wrote to her friend,
pouring out her whole heart. As Grace's letter and Miss Dale's answer
will assist us in our story, I will venture to give them both.