“You are very good. You are a learned man. I am only a poor ignorant woman. Your impression can not possibly require correcting by mine.”
“My impression, Lady Lundie, was that our so friend recommended moral, rather than medical, treatment for Blanche. If we can turn her thoughts from the painful subject on which they are now dwelling, we shall do all that is needful. Those were his own words, as I remember them. Do you confirm me?”
“Can I presume to dispute with you, Sir Patrick? You are a master of refined irony, I know. I am afraid it’s all thrown away on poor me.”
(The law kept its wonderful temper! The law met the most exasperating of living women with a counter-power of defensive aggravation all its own!)
“I take that as confirming me, Lady Lundie. Thank you. Now, as to the method of carrying out our friend’s advice. The method seems plain. All we can do to divert Blanche’s mind is to turn Blanche’s attention to some other subject of reflection less painful than the subject which occupies her now. Do you agree, so far?”
“Why place the whole responsibility on my shoulders?” inquired Lady Lundie.
“Out of profound deference for your opinion,” answered Sir Patrick. “Strictly speaking, no doubt, any serious responsibility rests with me. I am Blanche’s guardian—”
“Thank God!” cried Lady Lundie, with a perfect explosion of pious fervor.
“I hear an outburst of devout thankfulness,” remarked Sir Patrick. “Am I to take it as expressing—let me say—some little doubt, on your part, as to the prospect of managing Blanche successfully, under present circumstances?”
Lady Lundie’s temper began to give way again—exactly as her brother-in-law had anticipated.