This was dreadful to Lady Arabella. Even Dr Thorne had never before dared thus to lower her to the level of common humanity, and liken her to any other wife in the country-side. Moreover, she was not quite sure whether he, the parish doctor, was not desiring her, the earl's daughter, to go home and mind her own business. On this first point, however, there seemed to be no room for doubt, of which she gave herself the benefit.
"It would not become me to argue with you, Dr Thorne," she said.
"Not at least on this subject," said he.
"I can only repeat that I mean nothing offensive to our dear Mary; for whom, I think I may say, I have always shown almost a mother's care."
"Neither am I, nor is Mary, ungrateful for the kindness she has received at Greshamsbury."
"But I must do my duty: my own children must be my first consideration."
"Of course they must, Lady Arabella; that's of course."
"And, therefore, I have called on you to say that I think it is imprudent that Beatrice and Mary should be so much together."
The doctor had been standing during the latter part of this conversation, but now he began to walk about, still holding the two bones like a pair of dumb-bells.
"God bless my soul!" he said; "God bless my soul! Why, Lady Arabella, do you suspect your own daughter as well as your own son? Do you think that Beatrice is assisting Mary in preparing this wicked clandestine marriage? I tell you fairly, Lady Arabella, the present tone of your mind is such that I cannot understand it."