Lady Mary fell into the snare. She began to ask about the house, and whether they had brought furniture, or what they meant to do, and entered into all the details with a frank kindness which went to Margaret’s heart. During all this conversation, Harry Thornleigh kept coming and going softly, gliding among the plants, restless, but happy. He could not have her to himself any longer. He could not talk to her; but yet she was there, and making her way into the heart of at least one of his family. While these domestic subjects were discussed, and as the evening gradually darkened, Harry said to himself that he had always been very fond of his aunt, and that she was very nice and sympathetic, and that to secure her for a friend would be wise in any case. It was almost night before Dr. Murray made his appearance, and he was confounded by the darkness of the place into which he was ushered, where he could see nothing but shadows among the plants and against the pale lightness of the glass roofs. I am not sure, for the moment, that he was not half offended by being received in so unceremonious a way. He stood stiffly, looking about him, till Lady Mary half rose from her seat.
“Excuse me for having brought you here,” she said; “this is our favourite spot, where none but my friends ever come.”
Lady Mary felt persuaded that she saw, even in the dark, the puffing out of the chest with which this friendly speech was received.
“For such a pleasant reason one would excuse a much worse place,” he said, with an attempt at ease, to the amusement of the great lady who was condescending to him. Excuse his introduction to her conservatory! He should never have it in his power to do so again. Dr. Charles then turned to his sister, and said, “Margaret, we must be going. You and the child have troubled her Ladyship long enough.”
“I am delighted with Mrs. Smith’s society, and Sibby has been a godsend to the children,” said Lady Mary. “Let us go into the drawing-room, where there are lights, and where we can at least see each other. I like the gloaming, your pretty Scotch word; but I daresay Dr. Murray thinks us all rather foolish, sitting like crows in the dark.”
She led the way in, taking Margaret’s arm, while Margaret, with a little thrill of annoyance, tried through the imperfect light to throw a warning look at her brother. Why did he speak so crossly, he who was never really cross; and why should he say ladyship? Margaret knew no better than he did, and yet instinct kept her from going wrong.
Dr. Murray entered the drawing-room, looking at the lady who had preceded him, to see what she thought of him, with furtive, suspicious looks. He was very anxious to please Lady Mary, and still more anxious to show himself an accomplished man of the world; but he could not so much as enter a room without this subtle sense of inferiority betraying itself. Harry, coming after him, thought the man a cad, and writhed at the thought; but he was not at all a cad. He hesitated between the most luxurious chair he could find, and the hardest, not feeling sure whether it was best to show confidence or humility. When he did decide at last, he looked round with what seemed a defiant look. “Who can say I have no right to be here?” poor fellow, was written all over his face.
“You have been making acquaintance with your patients? I hope there are no severe cases,” said Lady Mary.
“No, none at all, luckily for them—or I should not have long answered for their lives,” he said, with an unsteady smile.
“Ah! you do not like Dr. Franks’ mode of treatment? Neither do I. I have disapproved of him most highly sometimes; and I assure you,” said Lady Mary, in her most gracious tone, “I am so very glad to know that there is now some one on the spot who may be trusted, whatever happens. With one’s nursery full of children, that question becomes of the greatest importance. Many an anxious moment I have had.”