These two had come to that point of age and long continuance when it is scarcely possible to believe in an end at all. Everything went on with such a steady, gentle routine, one day following another, each the same as the other, a steady succession of hours and habits, and invariable ways. They were so accustomed to it all: they were past the age of change: they were so easily satisfied, wanting nothing more than the warmth of the fireside, and their mutual talks, and their sober, moderate meals, and to see John growing up such a fine fellow! That was the one quicker, keener throb of happiness in the midst of their well-being. That he should go away would indeed be a wrench. But then there was no reason to suppose that his going away would be for anything but his good, and it was inevitable, a thing they had always known. And then they would have his letters, and his visits now and then, and always themselves to fall back upon, the inseparable pair, the two who were one. It is true that everybody knows that everybody else must die, but there seemed no reason in the world why this life should not go on for ever, so peaceful, so uneventful, doing no harm to anybody, doing good, demanding so little, and in itself so contented, without further desire or expectation. Mr. Sandford had long got over that other human sentiment which fears its own well-being, and feels that, the more comfortable you are, the more likely it is that fate will come down and crush you. Fate had nothing to do with this old pair: they were good, religious people, who had suffered much in this life, but to whom God had given a peace which was very sweet. And why should it be broken by any startling change? Why should it be disturbed? It was not an idea to be entertained for a moment. Did not all experience prove that that which hath been is the thing which shall be? He went upstairs, trying to make no noise with his heavy tread, to convince himself that every moment she was getting a little better, and that no change was possible, except for good.