could he dream of looking for such,
another? His conduct could scarcely be
characterised as selfish, he thought, if after
the life of work and anxiety which he had
passed, he tried to render its latter portion
peaceful and happy, and that, he felt, was
only to be done by his marriage with
Marian.

So much for himself, but how would it
affect others. Marian, first? Mr. Creswell
was so true and so honourable a man
that even in a case like the present, where
the interest of his future was at stake, he
would not have use an argument, in the
firm basis of which he did not himself
believe. In pleading his cause to Marian,
he had somewhat enlarged upon the
responsibility laid on her in regard to her mother
—responsibility which he argued would be
considerably lightened, if not entirely
removed, by her acceptance of the position
which he offered her. He believed this
firmly, setting it down as an undoubted
gain to Marian, who would also have
position, wealth, a home, and a protector. What
on the other side—what, as they said in
business, per contra—what would she lose?
He hoped, nothing. To many girls, to most
girls, a husband old enough to be their
father would have been in the highest
degree objectionable; but Marian was so
different to any girls he had ever seen. She
was so staid, so decorous, so old–fashioned;
her life had been one of such quietude and
earnestness; she had always been associated
with people so much older than herself.
And then she had never had any love–affair!
Mr. Creswell thanked Heaven for
that! He could not fancy anything worse
than playing the part of Auld Robin Gray
in the ballad, and being received and
accepted for the sake of his money, and
more than that, causing the rejection of a
poorer suitor! That would be too dreadful!
No! Marian had not been thrown in the
way of that kind of thing; her father had
neither entertained company nor taken her
into society, and there was no one in the
village, Mr. Creswell thought with a grave
smile, who would have ventured to uplift
his eyes towards her. He should not
expect from her any romantic worship, any
girlish devotion, but, at all events, she
would come to him heart–whole, without
any remains of previous attachments or
by–gone passions.

Who else would be affected by this marriage?
His nieces. At least, so the world
would think and say, but he who would take
care that the world was wrong. On the
contrary, if anybody rather benefited by the
step he was about to take, it should be
those girls; principally because they were
the persons who would be selected for the
world's pity, and also because, he could not
tell why, he rather disliked them. It was very
wrong, he knew, and he had often
reasoned with himself and struggled hard
against it, but the result was always the
same. They were no companions for him.
He had tried very hard to make himself
feel interested in them, but, beyond his natural
kinsman interest and compassion for their
forlorn state of orphanage, without effect.
He had examined himself as to the cause of
this want of interest, and had explained to
himself that they were "frivolous;" by
which he meant that they had no notions of
business, of money, of responsibility, of the
various items which make up the serious
side of life. All those qualities which made
up the charms of Marian Ashurst were
wanting in these girls. In reality they were
not in the least frivolous; they were far
better educated and informed than most
young ladies of their class, and one of them,
Maud, had superior natural gifts. But they
were not after their uncle's bent, and he
could not make them so. That, however,
was the exact reason why a man with such
a keen sense of honour as Mr. Creswell
should treat them with even extra
consideration, and should be more than ever
cautious that no such proceeding as his
marriage should injure them in any
possible way. He thought it was due to the
girls, as well as advisable for many reasons,
that they should be made acquainted with
the forthcoming change as speedily as
possible, and he took an opportunity of saying
so to Marian on the Sunday evening.
Marian quite agreed with him. She had
never been enthusiastic on the subject
of the girls and she did not pretend to be
now.

"It would only be right that they should
know it at once!" she said. "I had rather,
if you please, that you should tell them!
It will come from you better than from
me! I suppose I shall get on very well
with them!"

"Get on very well with them!" repeated
Mr. Creswell. "With the girls? Why of
course you will, dearest. What reason
could there be why you should not get on
with them?"

"Oh, none in the least!—of course not!
It was a silly remark of mine!"

Mr. Creswell knew that she never made
silly remarks; one of his avowed boasts