Nor did his conscience disturb him much--he was a man who had his conscience in very good training--as to the unfairness of this proceeding.

Marian was happy, he told himself; and when time came for some change in the manner of her existence, he doubted if the change would be for the better.
So the days and weeks and months had passed away, bringing little variety with them, and none of what the world calls pleasure.

Marian read and worked and rambled in the country lanes and meadows with Ellen Carley, and visited the poor people now and then, as she had been in the habit of doing at Lidford.

She had not very much to give them, but gave all she could; and she had a gentle sympathetic manner, which made her welcome amongst them, most of all where there were children, for whom she had always a special attraction.

The little ones clung to her and trusted her, looking up at her lovely face with spontaneous affection.
William Carley, the bailiff, was a big broad-shouldered man, with a heavy forbidding countenance, and a taciturn habit by no means calculated to secure him a large circle of friends.