The stir of the removal seemed to have cheered and interested her. She only spoke of it as a happy thought of Marian’s to surprise me on my return with a change from the close, noisy street to the pleasant neighbourhood of trees and fields and the river. She was full of projects for the future⁠—of the drawings she was to finish⁠—of the purchasers I had found in the country who were to buy them⁠—of the shillings and sixpences she had saved, till her purse was so heavy that she proudly asked me to weigh it in my own hand. The change for the better which had been wrought in her during the few days of my absence was a surprise to me for which I was quite unprepared⁠—and for all the unspeakable happiness of seeing it, I was indebted to Marian’s courage and to Marian’s love.

When Laura had left us, and when we could speak to one another without restraint, I tried to give some expression to the gratitude and the admiration which filled my heart. But the generous creature would not wait to hear me. That sublime self-forgetfulness of women, which yields so much and asks so little, turned all her thoughts from herself to me.