Two hundred and sixty pounds a year! It was beyond the hope of his
most fantastic day-dreams. He was a made man, secure for ever against fears
and worries. He was a man of substance, and need no longer shrink from
making known the hope which ruled his life.
A second letter was written to Mary Bowes; but not till many copies had
been made was it at length despatched. The writer declared that he looked
for no reply until Mary was quite herself again; he begged only that she
would reflect, meanwhile, upon what he had said, reflect with all her
indulgence, all her native goodness and gentleness. And, indeed, there
elapsed nearly a fortnight before the answer came; and to Humplebee it
seemed an endless succession of tormenting days. Then--
Humplebee behaved like one distracted. His landlady in good earnest thought
he had gone crazy, and was only reassured when he revealed to her what had
happened. Mary Bowes was to be his wife! They must wait for a year and a
half; Mary could not leave her father quite alone, but in a year and a half
Mr. Bowes, who was an oldish man, would be able to retire on the modest
fruit of his economies, and all three could live together in London.
'What,' cried Humplebee, 'was eighteen months? It would allow him to save
enough out of his noble salary to start housekeeping with something more
than comfort.
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