"
"No, I don't. I would not take her from you. We could all go on
together."
"All one family? Oh, you unpractised boy!"
"Have we not done so many winters? But I would wait, I meant to have
waited, only I am afraid of dying without being able to provide for
her. If she would have me, she would be left better off than my
mother, and then it would be all right for you and Armie. What are
you smiling at?"
"At your notions of rightness, my dear, kind Duke. I see how you
mean it, but it will not do. Even if she had grown to care for you,
it would not be right for me to give her to you for years to come."
"May not I hope till then?"
She could not tell how sorry she should be to see in her little
daughter any dawnings of an affection which would be a virtual
condemnation to such a life as his mother's had been.
"You don't guess how I love her! She has been the bright light of my
life ever since the Engelberg,—-the one hope I have lived for!"
"My poor Duke!"
"Then do you quite mean to deny me all hope?"
"Hope must be according to your own impressions, my dear Fordham.
Of course, if you are well, and still wishing it four or five years
hence, it would be free to you to try again. More, I cannot say.
No, don't thank me, for I trust to your honour to make no
demonstrations in the meantime, and not to consider yourself as
bound.
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