Then his early love for Sophia Rexford had been a memory and a far, half-formed hope; now it had been roused again to be a true, steady flame, an ever-present influence.
His one desire now was to win her affection.

He would not be afraid then to tell her all that there was to tell of himself, and let her love decide.

He did not feel that he should wrong her in this.

At present he had everything to give, she everything to receive, except the possession of gentle blood, which would apparently be her only dowry.

The girl he could not once have dared to address was now working servantless in her father's kitchen; he knew that it was no light drudgery; and he could offer her a comparatively luxurious home, and a name that had attracted to itself no small honour.