reast; but
something in his manner repelled her, something downcast and nervous,
which had a chilling effect upon her, and gave her time to remember how
little cause she had to love him. He did not seem aware of the
affectionate impulse which had moved her towards him at first. He gave
her his hand presently. It was deadly cold, and lay loosely in her own.

"I was asking my grandfather about you this morning," she said, wondering
at his strange manner, "but he would not tell me where you were."

"Indeed! I am surprised to find you felt so much interest in me; I'm
aware that I don't deserve as much. Yet I could plead plenty of excuses
for my life, if I cared to trouble you with them; but I don't. It would
be a long story; and when it was told, you might not believe it. Most men
are, more or less, the slave of circumstances. I have suffered that kind
of bondage all my life. I have known, too, that you were in good
hands--better off in every way than you could have been in my care--or I
should have acted differently in relation to you."

"There is no occasion to speak of the past," Marian replied gravely.
"Providence was very good to me; but I know my poor mother's last days
were full of sorrow. I cannot tell how far it might have been in your
power to prevent that. It is not my place to blame, or even to question
your conduct."

"You are an uncommonly dutiful daughter," Mr. Nowell exclaimed with
rather a bitter laugh; "I thought that you would have repudiated me
altogether perhaps; would have taken your tone from my father, who has
grown pig-headed with old age, and cannot forgive me for having had the
aspirations of a gentleman."

"It is a pity there should not be union between my grandfather and you at
such a moment as this," Marian said.

"O, we are civil enough to each other. I bear no malice against the old
man, though many sons in my position might consider themselves hardly
used. And now I may as well go upstairs and pay my respects. Why is not
your husband with you, by the bye?"

"He is not wanted here; and I do not even know that he is in London."

"Humph! He seems rather a mysterious sort of person, this husband of
yours."

Marian took no notice of this remark, and the father and daughter went
upstairs to the sick-room together. The old silversmith received his son
with obvious coolness, and was evidently displeased at seeing Marian and
her father together.

Percival Nowell, however, on his part, app