"Women have no future and they ask none. At least I
do not now, though once I did. It is enough for them if they can ever
so little help the lives of others. That is their happiness, and their
reward is--rest."
Just then Mr. Granger came back from his christening, and Beatrice rose
and went to bed.
"Looks a little pale, doesn't she, Mr. Bingham?" said her father. "I
think she must be troubled in her mind. The fact is--well, there is no
reason why I should not tell you; she thinks so much of you, and you
might say a word to brighten her up--well, it's about Mr. Davies. I
fancy, you know, that she likes him and is vexed because he does not
come forward. Well, you see--of course I may be mistaken, but I have
sometimes thought that he may. I have seen him look as if he was
thinking of it, though of course it is more than Beatrice has got any
right to expect. She's only got herself and her good looks to give him,
and he's a rich man. Think of it, Mr. Bingham," and the old gentleman
turned up his eyes piously, "just think what a thing it would be for
her, and indeed for all of us, if it should please God to send a chance
like that in her way; she would be rich for life, and such a position!
But it is possible; one never knows; he might take a fancy to her.
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