He
left his card, with a few words of condolence written upon it in pencil.
Mr. Nowell was with his daughter in the little parlour behind the shop
when Luke Tulliver gave her this card. He asked who the visitor was.
"Mr. Fenton, a gentleman I knew at Lidford in my dear uncle's lifetime.
My grandfather liked him very much."
"Mr. Fenton! Yes, my father told me all about him. You were engaged to
him, and jilted him for this man you have married--very foolishly, as it
seems to me; for he could certainly have given you a better position than
that which you appear to occupy now."
"I chose for my own happiness," Marian answered quietly, "and I have only
one subject for regret; that is, that I was compelled to act with
ingratitude towards a good man. But Mr. Fenton has forgiven me; has
promised to be my friend, if ever I should have need of his friendship.
He has very kindly offered to take all trouble off my hands with respect
to--to the arrangements for the funeral."
"He is remarkably obliging," said Percival Nowell with a sneer; "but as
the only son of the deceased, I consider myself the proper person to
perform that final duty."
"I do not wish to interfere with your doing so. Of course I did not know
how near at hand you were when Mr. Fenton made that offer, or I should
have told him.
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