The magnificent thing must be done, and the major made up his mind
accordingly. Something of regret came over his spirit as he thought of a
father-in-law disgraced and degraded, and of his own father
broken-hearted. But now there was hardly any alternative left to him.
And was it not the manly thing for him to do? He had loved the girl
before this trouble had come upon her, and was he not bound to accept
the burden which his love had brought with it? 'I will see her,' he
said, 'at once, if you will let me, and ask her to be my wife. But I
must see her alone.'

Then Miss Prettyman paused. Hitherto, she had undoubtedly been playing
her fish cautiously, or rather her young friend's fish--perhaps I may
say cunningly. She had descended to artifice on behalf of the girl whom
she loved, admired, and pitied. She had seen some way into the man's
mind, and had been partly aware of his purpose--of his infirmity of
purpose, of his double purpose. She had perceived that a word from her
might help Grace's chance, and had led the man on till he had committed
himself, at any rate to her. In doing this she had been actuated by
friendship rather than by abstract principle. But now, when the moment
had come in which she must decide upon some action, she paused. Was it
right, for the sake of either of them, that an offer of marriage should
be made at such a moment as this? It might be very well, in regard to
some future time, that the major should have so committed himself. She
saw something of the man's spirit, and believed that, having gone so
far--having so far told his love, he would return to his love hereafter,
let the result of the Crawley trial be what it might. But--but, this
could be no proper time for love-making. Though Grace loved the man, as
Miss Prettyman knew well, though Grace loved the child, having allowed
herself to long to call it her own, though such a marriage could be the
making of Grace's fortune as those who loved her could hardly have hoped