"After all," said he himself, "perhaps it's as well—perhaps it will be best that I should leave this place altogether." And then he thought of Sir Roger and his will, and of Mary and her lover. And then of Mary's birth, and of his own theoretical doctrines as to pure blood. And so his troubles multiplied, and he saw no present daylight through them.
Such had been the way in which Lady Arabella had got in the little end of the wedge. And she would have triumphed joyfully had not her increased doubts and fears as to herself then come in to check her triumph and destroy her joy. She had not yet confessed to any one her secret regret for the friend she had driven away. She hardly yet acknowledged to herself that she did regret him; but she was uneasy, frightened, and in low spirits.
"My dear," said the squire, sitting down by her bedside, "I want to tell you what Sir Omicron said as he went away."
"Well?" said her ladyship, sitting up and looking frightened.
"I don't know how you may take it, Bell; but I think it very good news:" the squire never called his wife Bell, except when he wanted her to be on particularly good terms with him.
"Well?" said she again. She was not over-anxious to be gracious, and did not reciprocate his familiarity.
"Sir Omicron says that you should have Thorne back again, and upon my honour, I cannot but agree with him. Now, Thorne is a clever man, a very clever man; nobody denies that; and then, you know—"
"Why did not Sir Omicron say that to me?" said her ladyship, sharply, all her disposition in Dr Thorne's favour becoming wonderfully damped by her husband's advocacy.
"I suppose he thought it better to say it to me," said the squire, rather curtly.
"He should have spoken to myself," said Lady Arabella, who, though she did not absolutely doubt her husband's word, gave him credit for having induced and led on Sir Omicron to the uttering of this opinion. "Doctor Thorne has behaved to me in so gross, so indecent a manner! And then, as I understand, he is absolutely encouraging that girl—"