Why, that's well! Now you are brave again.'
'I am endeavouring to be,' she answered, smiling through her tears.
'Endeavouring to be anything that's good, and being it, is, with you,
all one. Don't I know that of old?' cried Martin, gayly. 'So! That's
famous! Now I can tell you all my plans as cheerfully as if you were my
little wife already, Mary.'
She hung more closely on his arm, and looking upwards in his face, bade
him speak on.
'You see,' said Martin, playing with the little hand upon his wrist,
'that my attempts to advance myself at home have been baffled and
rendered abortive. I will not say by whom, Mary, for that would give
pain to us both. But so it is. Have you heard him speak of late of any
relative of mine or his, called Pecksniff? Only tell me what I ask you,
no more.'
'I have heard, to my surprise, that he is a better man than was
supposed.'
'I thought so,' interrupted Martin.
'And that it is likely we may come to know him, if not to visit and
reside with him and--I think--his daughters. He HAS daughters, has he,
love?'
'A pair of them,' Martin answered.
Pages:
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462