“Why not, when I see her treated with injustice!”
“Injustice, Henry!” cried Beatrice. “Is it injustice to speak against a young person who behaves like an unjust steward?”
The vicar was silent.
“For my part,” said Rebecca, “I think she should have been dismissed at once; and she would have been, but for the opposition offered by you, Henry, and Mr Burge.”
“For my part,” continued the vicar, ignoring the past speeches, “I can see nothing more touching, more beautiful, and Christian-like than Miss Thorne’s behaviour to this child—one of the sick lambs of her fold.”
“We are sorry, of course, for Ophelia Potts,” said Rebecca; “but she is a dreadful child.”
“A fact, I grant,” said the vicar; “and one that makes Miss Thorne’s conduct shine out the more.”
“Henry!” exclaimed his sisters in a breath.
“We are not doing wrong in staying here, Rebecca,” said Beatrice haughtily. “I do not believe in witchcraft or such follies, but it is as though this woman had bewitched our brother, and as if he were shaping himself in accordance with her plans.”
“I do not understand you, Beatrice,” said the vicar sternly.