“Are you prepared to keep her here?”
“Of course we are. It is Angel’s natural home. Clement and I could think of nothing else.”
“I knew you would say so. If I understand rightly there is something like a jealousy of her case in the Merrifields, prompted greatly by their wish to expiate any neglect of her father.”
“That is what I gather from what Phyllis tells me.”
“What a lovely countenance hers is in expression! No wonder Bernard has softened down. There is strength and solidity as well as sweetness in her face. Ah, there they are!”
“I will call Phyllis in. Bessie Merrifield has almost walked her to death by this time.”
So Phyllis was called and told. What she said was, “I only hope he will make her understand that it could not be helped, and it was not Angela’s fault.”
Tom May had wisdom enough to make this clear in what was a greater shock to Elizabeth than it was to Angela, who had suspected enough to be prepared for the sentence, and had besides a good deal of hospital experience, which enabled her thoroughly to understand the Professor’s explanations. So, indeed, did it seem to Elizabeth at the time he was speaking; but she had lived a good deal in London, and had a great idea that a London physician must be superior to a man who had lived in the country, and, moreover, whom all the household called Tom, and she asked Mrs. Grinstead if he were really so clever.
“Indeed, I think he is; and I have seen a great deal of his treatment. You may quite trust him. He lives down here at Stoneborough for his father’s sake, or he would be quite at the head of his profession.”
“Superior to the two Doctors Brownlow?”