"Who told you that the next twenty years of your life might not be happier than any that have gone before ?" "How could that be ?" she asked.

"What is left for me now, but to go quietly to my grave ?" "Grave!" said Tom.

"Who talks of graves for twenty years to come! Mary, my darling, I have waited for you so long and faithfully, you will not disappoint me at last ?" "What do you mean?
What can you mean ?" "Mean!" said he; "why, I mean this, cousin: I mean you to be my wife--to come and live with me as my honoured wife, for the next thirty years, please God!" "You are mad!" she said.

"Do you know what you say?
Do you know who you are speaking to ?" "To my old sweetheart, Polly Thornton!" he said, with a laugh,--"to no one else in the world." "You are wrong," she said; "you may try to forget now, but you will remember afterwards.

I am not Mary Thornton.