squire would be as good to Lily as he had promised to be to Bell,
then indeed things might be made to arrange themselves.

But there was no such drawback on Lily's happiness. Her ideas about
money were rather vague, but they were very honest. She knew she had
none of her own, but supposed it was a husband's duty to find what
would be needful. She knew she had none of her own, and was therefore
aware that she ought not to expect luxuries in the little household
that was to be prepared for her. She hoped, for his sake, that her
uncle might give some assistance, but was quite prepared to prove
that she could be a good poor man's wife. In the old colloquies on
such matters between her and her sister, she had always declared that
some decent income should be considered as indispensable before love
could be entertained. But eight hundred a year had been considered as
doing much more than fulfilling this stipulation. Bell had high-flown
notions as to the absolute glory of poverty. She had declared that
income should not be considered at all. If she had loved a man, she
could allow herself to be engaged to him, even though he had no
income. Such had been their theories; and as regarded money, Lily was
quite contented with the way in which she had carried out her own.

In these beautiful days there was nothing to check her happiness. Her
mother and sister united in telling her that she had done well,--that
she was happy in her choice, and justified in her love. On that first
day, when she told her mother all, she had been made exquisitely
blissful by the way in which her tidings had been received.

"Oh! mamma, I must tell you something," she said, coming up to her
mother's bedroom, after a long ramble with Mr Crosbie through those
Allington fields.