Who else will do it?
And we cannot trust to chance; while we are trusting and hoping, my father may die." At such moments Mr.Delaplaine would sometimes say in his heart, not daring to breathe such thoughts aloud, "And what could be better than that he should die and be done with it?
He is a thorn in the side of the young, the good, and the beautiful, and as long as he lives that thorn will rankle." Moreover, not only did the good merchant harbour such a wicked thought, but Dame Charter thought something of the very same kind, though differently expressed.

If he had never been born, she would say to herself, how much better it would have been; but then the thought would come crowding in, how bad that would have been for Dickory and for the plans she was making for him.
In the midst of all this uncertainty, this anxiety, this foreboding, almost this despair, there came a sunburst which lighted up the souls of these three good people, which made their eyes sparkle and their hearts swell with thankfulness.

This happiness came in the shape of a letter from Martin Newcombe.
The letter was a long one and told many things.

The first part of it Kate read to herself and kept to herself, for in burning words it assured her that he loved her and would always love her, and that no misfortune of her own nor wrongdoings of others could prevent him from offering her his most ardent and unchangeable affection.

Moreover, he begged and implored her to accept that affection, to accept it now that it might belong to her forever.