'You shall marry her very soon, if you like, marry her by special
licence, in this room. I should like to see your wedding. I have a
strange impatience to behold one of my granddaughters happily married,
to know that her future is secure, that come weal, come woe, she is safe
in the protection of a brave true man. I am not scared by the idea of a
little poverty. That is often the best education for youth. But while
you and I are alone we may as well talk about ways and means. Perhaps
you may hardly feel prepared to take upon yourself the burden of a wife
this year.'
'As well this year as next. I am not afraid.'
'Young men are so rash. However, as long as I live your responsibilities
will be only nominal. This house will be Mary's home, and yours whenever
you are able to occupy it. Of course I should not like to interfere with
your professional efforts--but if you are cultivating literature,--why
books can be written at Fellside better than in London. This lakeland of
ours has been the nursery of deathless writers. But I feel that my days
are numbered--and when I am dead--well death is always a cause of change
and trouble of some kind, and Mary will profit very little by my death.
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