"Yes;—and now she is at Nuncombe Putney, and he is roaming about in London. He has to pay ever so much a year for his love-match, and she is crushed into nothing by it. How long will she have to remain here, Hugh?"
"How can I say? I suppose there is no reason against her remaining as far as you are concerned?"
"For me personally, none. Were she much worse than I think she is, I should not care in the least for myself, if I thought that we were doing her good,—helping to bring her back. She can't hurt me. I am so fixed, and dry, and established, that nothing anybody says will affect me. But mamma doesn't like it."
"What is it she dislikes?"
"The idea that she is harbouring a married woman, of whom people say, at least, that she has a lover."
"Is she to be turned out because people are slanderers?"
"Why should mamma suffer because this woman, who is a stranger to her, has been imprudent? If she were your wife, Hugh—"
"God forbid!"
"If we were in any way bound to her, of course we would do our duty. But if it makes mamma unhappy I am sure you will not press it. I think Mrs. Merton has spoken to her. And then Aunt Stanbury has written such letters!"
"Who cares for Aunt Jemima?"