short while by the side of Sir Roger's sick-bed, and help us to bid
him God-speed on the journey which lies before him.

CHAPTER XXIII

Retrospective

It was declared in the early pages of this work that Dr Thorne was to
be our hero; but it would appear very much as though he had latterly
been forgotten. Since that evening when he retired to rest without
letting Mary share the grievous weight which was on his mind, we have
neither seen nor heard aught of him.

It was then full midsummer, and it is now early spring: and during the
intervening months the doctor had not had a happy time of it. On that
night, as we have before told, he took his niece to his heart; but
he could not then bring himself to tell her that which it was so
imperative that she should know. Like a coward, he would put off
the evil hour till the next morning, and thus robbed himself of his
night's sleep.

But when the morning came the duty could not be postponed. Lady
Arabella had given him to understand that his niece would no longer
be a guest at Greshamsbury; and it was quite out of the question that
Mary, after this, should be allowed to put her foot within the gate
of the domain without having learnt what Lady Arabella had said. So
he told it her before breakfast, walking round their little garden,
she with her hand in his.

He was perfectly thunderstruck by the collected--nay, cool way in
which she received his tidings. She turned pale, indeed; he felt also
that her hand somewhat trembled in his own, and he perceived that
for a moment her voice shook; but no angry word escaped her lip, nor
did she even deign to repudiate the charge, which was, as it were,
conveyed in Lady Arabella's request. The doctor knew, or thought he
knew--nay, he did know--that Mary was wholly blameless in the matter:
that she had at least given no encouragement to any love on the part
of the young heir; but, nevertheless, he had expected that she would
avouch her own innocence. This, however, she by no means did.

"Lady Arabella is quite right," she said, "quite right; if she has
any fear of that kind, she cannot be too careful."

"She is a selfish, proud woman," said the doctor; "quite indifferent
to the feelings of others; quite careless how deeply she may hurt her
neighbours, if, in doing so, she may possibly benefit herself."

"She will not hurt me, uncle, nor yet you. I can live without going
to Greshamsbury."

"But it is not to be endured that