But the Doctor's greatest difficulty was with his wife, whose conduct it was necessary that he should guide, and whose feelings and conscience he was most anxious to influence. When she first heard his decision she almost wrung her hands in despair. If the woman could have gone to America, and the man have remained, she would have been satisfied. Anything wrong about a man was but of little moment,—comparatively so, even though he were a clergyman; but anything wrong about a woman,—and she so near to herself! O dear! And the poor dear boys,—under the same roof with her! And the boys' mammas! How would she be able to endure the sight of that horrid Mrs. Stantiloup;—or Mrs. Stantiloup's words, which would certainly be conveyed to her? But there was something much worse for her even than all this. The Doctor insisted that she should go and call upon the woman! "And take Mary?" asked Mrs. Wortle.
"What would be the good of taking Mary? Who is talking of a child like that? It is for the sake of charity,—for the dear love of Christ, that I ask you to do it. Do you ever think of Mary Magdalene?"
"Oh yes."
"This is no Magdalene. This is a woman led into no faults by vicious propensities. Here is one who has been altogether unfortunate,—who has been treated more cruelly than any of whom you have ever read."
"Why did she not leave him?"
"Because she was a woman, with a heart in her bosom."
"I am to go to her?"
"I do not order it. I only ask it." Such asking from her husband was, she knew, very near alike to ordering.
"What shall I say to her?"
"Bid her keep up her courage till he shall return. If you were all alone, as she is, would not you wish that some other woman should come to comfort you? Think of her desolation."