Dame Harvey could hardly be persuaded to take the sum of money offered her by Mr Clavering. She had only done her duty, and she had done it without thought of reward; she would have done the same for any poor neighbour who would have been unable to repay her. Mr Clavering was incredulous as to her disinterestedness. Lilly took her part.
“I am sure, uncle, she nursed Ralph so kindly and gave up her cottage to him simply from kindness of heart,” she observed. “Had any young nobleman been thrown from his horse out hunting would you not have taken him in, and kept him till he was well, without thought of reward? Papa used to say that the poor feel as we do, and often more acutely, and that we should treat their feelings with the same consideration that we should those of the rich.”
“You have vast experience, Miss Lilly, about such matters,” answered Mr Clavering, with a laugh. “I know that the poor pull down my fences, and do all sorts of mischief, and I judge them by their deeds.”
“And how do the rich treat each other, and how would they behave if they were exposed to the temptations of poverty?” argued Lilly, with unusual vehemence.
“We have put up your Irish spirit, young lady,” answered her uncle, laughing. “However, I dare say that you are right, and I have no doubt of Dame Harvey’s good intentions.”
Ralph having as the doctor said, once turned the corner, got rapidly well. Lilly was in hopes that from what had occurred his character would have improved, indeed, while he still remained weak and unable to help himself he was far less dictatorial than he used to be, and more than once, though not, perhaps, in the most gracious of ways, expressed himself obliged for what had been done for him.
“He’ll do better by-and-by,” thought his sanguine cousin. “He is fretful now from his long confinement. When he gets out in the fresh air he will recover his temper.”