And really, my dear," Charlotte added, "Fanny Assingham doesn't matter." He wondered again.

"Unless as taking care of THEM." "Ah," Charlotte instantly said, "isn't it for us, only, to do that ?" She spoke as with a flare of pride for their privilege and their duty.

"I think we want no one's aid." She spoke indeed with a nobleness not the less effective for coming in so oddly; with a sincerity visible even through the complicated twist by which any effort to protect the father and the daughter seemed necessarily conditioned for them.

It moved him, in any case, as if some spring of his own, a weaker one, had suddenly been broken by it.

These things, all the while, the privilege, the duty, the opportunity, had been the substance of his own vision; they formed the note he had been keeping back to show her that he was not, in their so special situation, without a responsible view.