During the last few moments Huntington had anticipated this announcement, but he refrained from making comment. Hamlen looked over at him for a word of encouragement, but as none came he went on.
"I know myself to be entirely unfitted, and it is the last thing in the world I should have thought of; but lately I have mistrusted my own judgment, which leaves me absolutely without a guide of any kind. So when any one I respect as I do Mrs. Thatcher makes such a statement, and even suggests the possibility of my marrying her own daughter, I don't know what to do. I can't believe that the girl would consider me as a husband, yet Marian is confident that if it could be arranged it would be for the happiness of all concerned."
"Are you fond of Merry?" Huntington demanded.
"As Marian's daughter, yes. I admire her tremendously, for in some ways she reminds me of her mother. But what in the world have I to offer her?"
"What has any man to offer the woman he marries," Huntington replied with feeling, "in comparison to what she brings into his life? He stakes nothing but his liberty; she stakes her future as well as her present."
"I know; but what do you advise me to do?"
"Has it occurred to you that Mrs. Thatcher is assuming a great responsibility in pledging her daughter's consent?"
"Yes; I am afraid her influence over the girl is as strong as it is over me. She is a very magnetic woman."
"Do you mean that you question your own strength?"
"That is exactly what I mean," he answered, dropping his eyes.