"Where she had suffered so much." Alas! and that was the way in which this eighteen months in Milton--to him so unspeakably precious, down to its very bitterness, which was worth all the rest of life's sweetness--would be remembered. Neither loss of father, nor loss of mother, dear as she was to Mr. Thornton, could have poisoned the remembrance of the weeks, the days, the hours, when a walk of two miles, every step of which was pleasant, as it brought him nearer and nearer to her, took him to her sweet presence--every step of which was rich, as each recurring moment that bore him away from her made him recall some fresh grace in her demeanour, or pleasant pungency in her character. Yes! whatever had happened to him, external to his relation to her, he could never have spoken of that time, when he could have seen her every day--when he had her within his grasp, as it were--as a time of suffering. It had been a royal time of luxury to him, with all its stings and contumelies, compared to the poverty that crept round and clipped the anticipation of the future down to sordid fact, and life without an atmosphere of either hope or fear.

: 'Where she had suffered so much.'
Alas! and that was the way in which this eighteen months in Milton - to him so unspeakably precious, even down to its very bitterness - would be remembered by her. Nothing could have poisoned his remembrance of the weeks when a walk of two miles took him to her sweet presence - every moment of which showed him some fresh grace in her demeanour, or pleasant pungency in her character. Yes! whatever had happened to him, he could never have spoken of that period as a time of suffering. It had been a royal time of luxury to him, with all its stings, compared to the poverty that crept round the anticipation of the future.
