"Brought into a world that she knew nothing about, and amongst a set of people who could not understand why she looked sad and lonely, poor child!—"
"I say, Maurice, you are speaking of my daughter, remember."
"Don't be touchy, old man. I speak and I think of her with every respect. We have all misjudged and misunderstood her: she is a young girl, little more than a child, and a child astray, pining uncomplainingly for her mother, doing her best to understand the new world she was thrown into, devouring your writings and trying as hard as she could to assimilate every good and noble idea that she came across—I say that she's a saint and a heroine," said Maurice, with sudden passion and enthusiasm, "and we've forgotten that not a girl in a thousand could have come through a trying ordeal so well!"
"She hasn't come out of her ordeal at all, Maurice: the ordeal of living in the house of a brutal father, who, in her view, probably broke her mother's heart: all that has to be proceeded with for nine months longer!"
"It need not be an ordeal if she knows that you love her: if she writes to her mother and gets the sympathy and aid she needs. Upon my soul, Brooke, it seems to me that you are hard upon your daughter!"
"Do you think I need to be taught my duty by you, young man?" said Caspar. He spoke with a smile, but his tone was undoubtedly sharp. His disciple was not so submissive as he had hitherto appeared to be.
"Yes, I do," said Maurice, undismayed. "Because I appreciate her and understand her, which you don't. I was dense at first as you are, but I have learnt better now—through loving her."
"Through what, man?"
"Through loving her. It's the truth, Brooke, as I stand here. I've known it for some little time. It is only because it may seem too sudden to her and to you that I haven't spoken before, and I did not mean to do so when I came here this afternoon. But the fact remains, I love Lesley, and I want her to be my wife."