He had thought to shield her by his knowledge of the world, and he had found that she, by natural common sense, had a better knowledge of the world than he by experience; he had thought to protect her by his strong arm, and he had found himself flung off, as she might have flung a feeble thing that clung to her for protection.
She was better able to take care of herself in the world than he had been to take care of her, and she did not want his tenderness.

Yet he loved her just as he had ever done, and perceived, in the deep well of his heart's love and pity, that she did, in sooth, need something--a tenderer heart it might be--need it more terribly than he had ever fancied need till now.

He longed unspeakably to give her this--this crown of womanhood, which she lacked, and in the helplessness of this longing his heart was pining.
"A man isn't going to die because he has asthma," had been the doctor's fiat concerning Bates.

He had come to Chellaston apparently so ill that neither he nor his friends would have been much surprised had death been the order of the day, but as the programme was life, not death, he was forced to plan accordingly.

His plans were not elaborate; he would go back to the clearing; he would take his aunt back from Turrifs to be with him; he would live as he had lived before.
Would he not sell the land?
they asked; for the price offered for it was good, and the lonely life seemed undesirable.
No, he would not sell.