But he could do so now when she entreated him.

He could think of her being there, without a lurking misgiving that it would have been better if she had not come.

He could calmly think how beautiful she was, how full of promise, what a home some happy man would find in such a heart one day.

He could reflect upon his own place in that heart, with pride; and with a brave determination, if not to deserve it--he still thought that far above him--never to deserve it less.
Some fairy influence must surely have hovered round the hands of Susan Nipper when she made the tea, engendering the tranquil air that reigned in the back parlour during its discussion.

Some counter-influence must surely have hovered round the hands of Uncle Sol's chronometer, and moved them faster than the Tartar frigate ever went before the wind.