"No; not in that entirely, of course; but in having carried out the main idea of his life, and----"
"The main idea of my life that was in existence but a very little while, missy! The main idea of my life was to make my poor Jenny a good husband, and afterwards--when the boy was born--to leave him a good and honoured name. Both those hopes are extinguished now, Marian. The first went years ago, the last--you know when. And this," pointing with his pen to the bankbook in front of him--"this has no power to fill their place."
Both were silent for some minutes; then Marian said, "You have shown me how silly I was to speak as I spoke just now."
"My child, you spoke as a child; as one who has never known--who, please God, never will know--the vanity of such resources as those in time of trouble."
"I spoke as one who has known sorrow, Mr. Creswell, but who also has known, and who never can too gratefully acknowledge, the kindness of friends who were willing and able to help her. I think, I am sure, it will be a source of satisfaction to you to remember that your position enabled you to soften, very much to soften, the severity of the blow which so recently fell upon my mother and myself."
"There, indeed, you show me some use in what you are pleased to call my 'position.' It is long since I have experienced such gratification as in being enabled to show some neighbourly civility to the wife and daughter of my old friend. Even if you had been personally very different from what you are, I should have been pleased to do it in remembrance of him; but your mother is the gentlest and the most amiable creature in the world, while as for you----"
He paused for an instant, and her heart beat high. Only for an instant; she resumed her normal respiration as he laid his hand softly on her head, and said, "If I had had a daughter, child, I could have wished her not one whit different from you."
She was quite calm again, as she said, "I am so pleased to hear you say that, sir; for as you know, there are few to give me that affection which you truly describe as being the only thing worth living for. And I am so glad that I have been able to be of use to you, and to have shown you, in a very poor way indeed, how grateful I am to you for all your kindness to us before we leave you."
"Leave me, Marian? What are you talking of, child?"
"The fact," she replied, with a sad smile--"the dire hated fact. We must go, sooner or later; and it is the best for me--for us, I mean--that now it should be sooner. We have remained here longer than we intended, many weeks longer, owing to--to circumstances; and we have been, oh, so happy! Now we must go, and it will be better for us to look the fact in the face, and settle down in Mrs. Swainson's lodgings, and begin our new life."