at are ten or fifteen thousand pounds
to me? Remember that, Thorne."

Dr Thorne did remember it. In that interview he remembered many
things, and much passed through his mind on which he felt himself
compelled to resolve somewhat too suddenly. Would he be justified
in rejecting, on behalf of Mary, the offer of pecuniary provision
which this rich relative seemed so well inclined to make? Or, if he
accepted it, would he in truth be studying her interests? Scatcherd
was a self-willed, obstinate man--now indeed touched by unwonted
tenderness; but he was one to whose lasting tenderness Dr Thorne
would be very unwilling to trust his darling. He did resolve, that on
the whole he should best discharge his duty, even to her, by keeping
her to himself, and rejecting, on her behalf, any participation in
the baronet's wealth. As Mary herself had said, "some people must
be bound together;" and their destiny, that of himself and his
niece, seemed to have so bound them. She had found her place at
Greshamsbury, her place in the world; and it would be better for
her now to keep it, than to go forth and seek another that would be
richer, but at the same time less suited to her.

"No, Scatcherd," he said at last, "she cannot come here; she would
not be happy here, and, to tell the truth, I do not wish her to know
that she has other relatives."

"Ah! she would be ashamed of her mother, you mean, and of her
mother's brother too, eh? She's too fine a lady, I suppose, to take
me by the hand and give me a kiss, and call me her uncle? I and Lady
Scatcherd would not be grand enough for her, eh?"

"You may say what you please, Scatcherd: I of course cannot stop
you."

"But I don't know how you'll reconcile what you are doing to your
conscience. What right can you have to throw away the girl's chance,
now that she has a chance? What fortune can you give her?"

"I have done what little I could," said Thorne, proudly.

"Well, well, well, well, I never heard such a thing in my life;
never. Mary's child, my own Mary's child, and I'm not to see her!
But, Thorne, I tell you what; I will see her. I'll go over to her,
I'll go to Greshamsbury, and tell her who I am, and what I can do
for her. I tell you fairly I will. You shall not keep her away from
those who belong to her, and can do her a good turn. Mary's daughter;
another Mary Scatcherd! I almost wish she were called Mary Scatcherd.
Is she like her, Thorne? Come tell me that; is she like her