he glanced at Marion, 'to whom I made my humble supplication for 
forgiveness, when I knew her merit and my deep unworthiness.  In a 
few days I shall quit this place for ever.  I entreat your pardon.  
Do as you would be done by!  Forget and Forgive!'

TIME - from whom I had the latter portion of this story, and with 
whom I have the pleasure of a personal acquaintance of some five-
and-thirty years' duration - informed me, leaning easily upon his 
scythe, that Michael Warden never went away again, and never sold 
his house, but opened it afresh, maintained a golden means of 
hospitality, and had a wife, the pride and honour of that 
countryside, whose name was Marion.  But, as I have observed that 
Time confuses facts occasionally, I hardly know what weight to give 
to his authority.

End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Battle of Life by Charles Dickens