Tackleton muttered a few words about its being necessary to decide, but he was overawed by the manner of his companion. Plain and unpolished as it was, there was something noble and dignified about it.
“I am a plain, rough man,” continued the carrier, “with very little to recommend me. I am not a clever man, as you very well know. I am not a young man. I loved my little Dot because I had seen her grow up from a child, in her father’s house; because I knew how precious she was; because she had been in my life for years and years.”
He paused a moment, then went on.
“I often thought that though I wasn’t good enough for her, I should make her a kind husband, and perhaps appreciate her better than another. And so it came about we were married.”
“Hah!” said Tackleton, with a shake of his head.
“I knew how much I loved her, and how happy I should be,” continued the carrier; “but I had not sufficiently considered her.”
“No,” said Tackleton. “No; you didn’t stop to think how giddy, frivolous, fickle, vain! Hah!”
“You’d better not interrupt me,” said the carrier, with some sternness, “till you understand me, which you seem far from doing.”
The toy merchant looked at him in surprise.
“I didn’t consider that I took her, at her age, with her beauty, away from her young companions and their many scenes of pleasure into my dull house and my tedious society. I didn’t consider how little suited I was to her fun and humor, and how wearisome I must be to one of her quick spirit. No! I took advantage of her hopeful nature, and I married her. I shouldn’t have done so!”