“The pain is always here--just over the heart. You know what I mean? Suddenly, when I am thinking of other things, the sound of her voice and the sight of her face comes upon me, and then a dead, weary ache. I know I cannot have her, perhaps if I did I shouldn't be wholly glad; but glad or sorry, good fortune or ill, I cannot forget her. My life will not be complete. You have felt all this.” “Never mind how I felt, you know I don't like talking about it. I am sorry for you. We all have our troubles, I've had nothing else; I often think that if I were to die to-morrow it would be a happy release.” “If I had never seen her, or if I had married Maggie; if your father had not put obstacles in the way; if he had not raised the wretched money question, which you know as well as I do was dragged in quite unnecessarily, I should not be suffering now. For, once married, I should think of no one but my wife. I am sure I should make a good husband. I know I could make a woman happy; she'll never find a husband better than she'd have found in me, I don't believe if they were to be made that you could make a better husband than I should be--I feel it.” “I have always said that my father brings all his troubles on himself. He never went in for the country people; he never would have people at the Manor House. You can't shut up young girls as if they were in a convent, and if they don't get the right people they'll have the wrong people. My father thinks of nothing but his money, and he can't understand that he might go for an equivalent. How could he have expected it to have turned in your case but as it did? Lord Mount Rorke was not going to come over to Southwick to haggle over pounds, shillings, and pence with him--not likely. My sisters might have married very well if he had gone the right way to work, and he would have been saved a deal of worry and bother. I always say that my father brings all his troubles on himself.” “So far as I was concerned he certainly acted very stupidly. Ah, if I had married Maggie last summer, how different my life would be now.” “But you couldn't have really loved her; if you had you would never--” “Yes, I did love her.” “I heard from my father to-day. Maggie is better. This is, of course, a very delicate question, but we have been friends so long--would you like me to see if--if this matter could be arranged? I don't like, as you know, to meddle in other people's affairs, I have quite enough to do to look after my own; but if you would like--You, of course, do not think of marrying Lizzie Baker?” “Of course not.” “Then you would like me to speak to my father? Are you willing? Would you like to marry Maggie?” “Yes, of course I should.” “I don't say so because she is my sister, but I think it is the best thing you could do.”