“It was Marsden's foolishness, let us call it, to spare his wife the disgrace of her idol and the loss of his company. So her husband was despised beside this precious rascal every day.”
“Trixy will get a terrible shock when she is told; it would almost have been kinder to let her know the truth before he died.”
“Mrs. Marsden is never to know,” said Leslie; “that was his wish; she's just to be informed that new trustees have been appointed, and we are to take care that she does not waste her income on the fellow.
“People will send letters of condolence to Mrs. Marsden, but they will say at afternoon teas that it must be a great relief to her, and that it's quite beautiful to see her sorrow. In two years she will marry some well-dressed fool, and they will live on Marsden's money,” and Leslie's voice had an unusual bitterness.
“Did you ever hear of another case like this, John?”
“Never; when old Parchment described Marsden giving him the instructions, he stopped suddenly.
“'Marsden,' he said, 'was the biggest fool I ever came across in the course of forty-two years' practice,' and he went over to the window.”
“And you?”
“I went to the fireplace; we were both so disgusted with the man that we couldn't speak for five minutes.”
After a short while Mrs. Leslie said, “It appears to me that this slow, uninteresting man, whom every one counted a bore, was in his own way... almost a hero.”