for him or
for you. Of course, Grace, you know why I am here?" He paused, and
then remembering that he had no right to expect an answer to such a
question, he continued, "I have come here, dearest Grace, to ask you
to be my wife, and to be a mother to Edith. I know that you love
Edith."

"I do indeed."

"And I have hoped sometimes,--though I suppose I ought not to say
so,--but I have hoped and almost thought sometimes, that you have
been willing to--to love me, too. It is better to tell the truth
simply, is it not?"

"I suppose so," said Grace.

"And therefore, and because I love you dearly myself, I have come to
ask you to be my wife." Saying which he opened out his hand, and held
it to her. But she did not take it. "There is my hand, Grace. If your
heart is as I would have it you can give me yours, and I shall want
nothing else to make me happy." But still she made no motion towards
granting him his request. "If I have been too sudden," he said,
"you must forgive me for that. I have been sudden and abrupt, but
as things are, no other way has been open to me. Can you not bring
yourself to give me some answer, Grace?" His hand had now fallen
again to his side, but he was still standing before her.

She had said no word to him as yet, except that one in which she had
acknowledged her love for his child, and had expressed no surprise,
even in her countenance, at his proposal. And yet the idea that he
should do such a thing, since the idea that he certainly would do it
had become clear to her, had filled her with a world of surprise. No
girl ever lived with any beauty belonging to her who had a smaller
knowledge of her own possession than Grace Crawley. Nor had she the
slightest pride in her own acquirements. That she had been taught in
many things more than had been taught to other girls, had come of her
poverty and of the desolation of her home. She had learned to read
Greek and Italian because there had been nothing else for her to do
in that sad house. And, subsequently, accuracy of knowledge had been
necessary for the earning of her bread. I think that Grace had at
times been weak enough to envy the idleness and almost to envy the
ignorance of other girls. Her figure was light, perfect in symmetry,
full of grace at all points; but she had thought nothing of her
figure, remembering only the poverty of her dress, but remembering
also with a brave resolution that she would never be ashamed of it.
And as her acqu