But in
London, as I was saying, there had been no time for an appreciation
of the family joy. The work to be done was nervous in its nature,
and self-glorification might have been fatal; but now, when they were
safe at Plumstead, the great truth, burst upon them in all its
splendour.
Mrs. Grantly had but one daughter, and the formation of that child's
character and her establishment in the world had been the one main
object of the mother's life. Of Griselda's great beauty the Plumstead
household had long been conscious; of her discretion also, of her
conduct, and of her demeanour there had been no doubt. But the father
had sometimes hinted to the mother that he did not think that Grizzy
was quite so clever as her brothers. "I don't agree with you at all,"
Mrs. Grantly had answered. "Besides, what you call cleverness is not
at all necessary in a girl; she is perfectly lady-like; even you
won't deny that." The archdeacon had never wished to deny it, and
was now fain to admit that what he had called cleverness was not
necessary in a young lady. At this period of the family glory the
archdeacon himself was kept a little in abeyance, and was hardly
allowed free intercourse with his own magnificent child. Indeed, to
give him his due, it must be said of him that he would not consent
to walk in the triumphal procession which moved with stately step,
to and fro, through the Barchester regions.
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