I suffer
enough for your sake, as it is. For nearly two years, a day has hardly
passed that my family hasn't wrung the burnin' tears from my eyes on
your account. Haven't I refused matches that any young woman in my
station of life ought to be I proud to accept?"
"You did, Ellen, you did; but still I know how hard it is for you to
hould out against the persecution you suffer at home. No, no, Ellen
dear, I never doubted you for one minute. All I wondher at is, that such
a girl as you ever could think of one so humble as I am, compared to
what you'd have a right to expect an' could get."
"Well, but if I'm willin' to prefer you, John?" said Ellen, with a
smile.
"One thing I know, Ellen," he replied, "an' that is, that I'm far from
bein' worthy of you; an' I ought, if I had a high enough spirit, to try
to turn you against me, if it was only that you might marry a man that
'ud have it in his power to make you happier than ever I'll be able to
do; any way, than ever it's likely I'll be able to do."
"I don't think, John, that ever money or the wealth of the world made a
man an' wife love one another yet, if they didn't do it before; but it
has often put their hearts against one another."
"I agree wid you in that, Ellen; but you don't know how my heart sinks
when I think of your an' my own poverty. My poor father, since the
strange disappearance of little Alice, never was able to raise his head;
and indeed my mother was worse.
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