'I had studied myself; I had had experience of myself; I knew how
much I loved her, and how happy I should be,' pursued the Carrier.
'But I had not--I feel it now--sufficiently considered her.'

'To be sure,' said Tackleton. 'Giddiness, frivolity, fickleness,
love of admiration! Not considered! All left out of sight! Hah!'

'You had best not interrupt me,' said the Carrier, with some
sternness, 'till you understand me; and you're wide of doing so.
If, yesterday, I'd have struck that man down at a blow, who dared
to breathe a word against her, to-day I'd set my foot upon his
face, if he was my brother!'

The Toy-merchant gazed at him in astonishment. He went on in a
softer tone:

'Did I consider,' said the Carrier, 'that I took her--at her age,
and with her beauty--from her young companions, and the many scenes
of which she was the ornament; in which she was the brightest
little star that ever shone, to shut her up from day to day in my
dull house, and keep my tedious company? Did I consider how little
suited I was to her sprightly humour, and how wearisome a plodding
man like me must be, to one of her quick spirit? Did I consider
that it was no merit in me, or claim in me, that I loved her, when
everybody must, who knew her? Never. I took advantage of her
hopeful nature and her cheerful disposition; and I married her. I
wish I never had! For her sake; not for mine!'

The Toy-merchant gazed at him, without winking. Even the half-shut