ordinary comfort from that disordered and
desolate household. That you are the
mainstay of the family in their trouble, as
of course few would be, I happen to know.
Did I tell you how? Mr. Gould, who is
Lord Hetherington's principal business
agent, showed me a letter he had had from
you, written in Mr. Creswell's behalf, about
the impossibility of the poor old gentlemman's
carrying out some sale of land, about
which he had been previously negotiating,
under the existing melancholy
circumstances. It seemed so strange to see the
handwriting, so familiar and so dear to me,
addressed to another; treating of business
topics, and yet conveying information,
which was surely interesting to me, but of
which I was yet ignorant. However, you
had your duty to do to the people who had
been so kind to you, and had done
much more than their duty by you during
the time of your trials, and I, who know
you so well, have no doubt that you have
done it, not merely in the letter but in the
spirit. I suppose that by this time the first
shock of grief will have passed away, and
that the household at Woolgreaves will be
assuming something like its normal state;
and I presume, therefore, that you and Mrs.
Ashurst will be soon thinking of bringing
your visit to an end, even if by this time you
have not already entered upon the lodgings
which you told me you had in in view. I have
no doubt that if this be so now, or whenever
it comes, both you and Mrs. Ashurst will
much miss the material comfort which you
have enjoyed during the last few months.
It is impossible that it should be otherwise,
but you, at all events, have long had a clear
idea of your future, and so long as you are
with her I do not fear Mrs. Ashurst's
becoming a prey to despair. The woman
who battled so bravely by your dear father's
side, is not likely to give way now that the
heat of the contest is over, and a
retreat, humble indeed, but sufficient for
existence, is provided for her. I should
almost rather fear the effect of the change
upon you. I should very much fear it, if
I laid much stress upon the opinions with
which the last letter I received from you
was rife, opinions breathing the very
essence of worldly philosophy, but scarcely
such as one would expect to find in a young
girl's letter to her lover. However, I do
not lay much stress on these opinions; I
know that it is the fashion just now to
affect a cynicism which is not really felt, and
to ascribe to oneself faults and follies which
have no substantial basis. I am sure that
you must have become infected with this
idea, and that you wrote under its influence,
for nothing could be more opposite than
your new doctrine to the teachings of your
youth, and the example of your parents.

"It is time, however, my dear Marian,
that we should each shake ourselves free from
any little affectations or delusions which
have hitherto possessed us, and make up
our minds to look our position resolutely
in the face. I say both of us, because I am
perfectly conscious of having permitted
myself to start in life as the victim of a
delusion of a very different kind to yours. I
was as sanguine as you were depressed,
and when, on the day we parted, you had
a notion that there was an end to all
happiness to be enjoyed mutually by us, I had
a feeling that I was taking my first step
towards the premiership or the governorship
of the Bank of England. I pray God
that your idea was as baseless as mine. I
know that my position can never be a great
or a wealthy one, that all I ever get I must
earn by my handwork, and I am perfectly
content, so long as I have your approval of
my steps, and you yourself as my reward.

"But we must not dream any more,
Marian, either of us, and you, especially,
must not suffer yourself again, for
whatever reason, to be tempted out of your
regular sphere. All your attention henceforth
must be given to the joint interests
which must be paramount in your heart.
Life progresses, dear. How the months
have slipped away since we parted! We
must not let youth and health and all
that is best pass out of it, and leave us still
pursuing a flying shadow, and waiting for
better days till we shall come together. Not
now, or ever, will I take any step as
regards my future without your counsel and
consent, considering as I do that that future
is yours as much as mine. But I want to
be assured of your hearty interest and
desire for co-operation in my affairs, Marian!
I feel sure I have it; I know it is almost
absurd in me to doubt its existence, but I
have been so long away from you, and you
have been so long without writing to me,
that I long to read the assurance in your
own hand. What would I not give—if I had
anything, poor wretch!—to hear it from
your lips, but that is impossible just yet.

"Now, what we have to think of is de-
finite and pressing. I must give a decisive
answer within a week, and you will see
the bearing and importance of that decisive
answer on our future. I believe I could
stay on here for any time I chose. The big