“Yes—but you understand one thing by staying with me; and I understand another. You, perhaps, could make up your mind to be about my hand and chair—to wait on me as a kind little nurse (for you have an affectionate heart and a generous spirit, which prompt you to make sacrifices for those you pity), and that ought to suffice for me no doubt. I suppose I should now entertain none but fatherly feelings for you: do you think so? Come—tell me.”
“I will think what you like, sir: I am content to be only your nurse, if you think it better.”
“But you cannot always be my nurse, Janet: you are young—you must marry one day.”
“I don’t care about being married.”
“You should care, Janet: if I were what I once was, I would try to make you care—but—a sightless block!”
He relapsed again into gloom. I, on the contrary, became more cheerful, and took fresh courage: these last words gave me an insight as to where the difficulty lay; and as it was no difficulty with me, I felt quite relieved from my previous embarrassment. I resumed a livelier vein of conversation.