'We may be, Glory.'
'I do not see how that is possible. I have no more any hopes, but it is a great pleasure to me to see you and to hear you talk. I think of old days and old dreams of happiness.'
'Why, Glory! with three hundred a year we might have lived as gentlefolks, doing nothing. We might have bought a little house and garden just anywhere, at the other end of England, in Scotland, or where you liked, away from all ugly sights and memories.'
'I had no ugly memories in the old days,' she said sorrowfully.
'I suppose not. But you have now. My Glory! how delightful it would be to cast all the horrible past away like a bad dream; all the past from when I was pressed into the service, to now—to drop it all out of memory as though it never had been, and to take up the story of life from that interruption.'
'Oh, George!' She trembled and gave one great sob, that shook her.
'How we should live to one another, live in one another, and love one another. Why, Glory! we should not care for any others to come and disturb us, we should be so happy——'
She covered her face.
'On three hundred a year,' he went on. 'That is a beautiful sum. I suppose you need not live here on it: you might live where you liked on the money. It is not laid out on land in Wyvenhoe?'
'No, no.'