But this was not all, nor was this the worst of it.

That he had done right in utterly repudiating all idea of a marriage between Mary and her cousin--of that he was certain enough; that no earthly consideration would have induced Mary to plight her troth to such a man--that, with him, was as certain as doom.

But how far had he done right in keeping her from the sight of her uncle?
How could he justify it to himself if he had thus robbed her of her inheritance, seeing that he had done so from a selfish fear lest she, who was now all his own, should be known to the world as belonging to others rather than to him?
He had taken upon him on her behalf to reject wealth as valueless; and yet he had no sooner done so than he began to consume his hours with reflecting how great to her would be the value of wealth.

And thus, when Sir Roger told him, as he left the room, that he had ruined Mary's fortune, he was hardly able to bear the taunt with equanimity.
On the next morning, after paying his professional visit to his patient, and satisfying himself that the end was now drawing near with steps terribly quickened, he went down to Greshamsbury.
"How long is this to last, uncle ?" said his niece, with sad voice, as he again prepared to return to Boxall Hill.
"Not long, Mary; do not begrudge him a few more hours of life." "No, I do not, uncle.

I will say nothing more about it.