“I quite agree with you,” said Dorothea, at once fascinated by the situation sketched in Lydgate’s words.  “But what is there against Mr. Bulstrode?  I know that my uncle is friendly with him.”

“People don’t like his religious tone,” said Lydgate, breaking off there.

“That is all the stronger reason for despising such an opposition,” said Dorothea, looking at the affairs of Middlemarch by the light of the great persecutions.

“To put the matter quite fairly, they have other objections to him:—­ he is masterful and rather unsociable, and he is concerned with trade, which has complaints of its own that I know nothing about.  But what has that to do with the question whether it would not be a fine thing to establish here a more valuable hospital than any they have in the county?  The immediate motive to the opposition, however, is the fact that Bulstrode has put the medical direction into my hands.  Of course I am glad of that.  It gives me an opportunity of doing some good work,—­and I am aware that I have to justify his choice of me.  But the consequence is, that the whole profession in Middlemarch have set themselves tooth and nail against the Hospital, and not only refuse to cooperate themselves, but try to blacken the whole affair and hinder subscriptions.”

“How very petty!” exclaimed Dorothea, indignantly.

“I suppose one must expect to fight one’s way:  there is hardly anything to be done without it.  And the ignorance of people about here is stupendous.  I don’t lay claim to anything else than having used some opportunities which have not come within everybody’s reach; but there is no stifling the offence of being young, and a new-comer, and happening to know something more than the old inhabitants.  Still, if I believe that I can set going a better method of treatment—­ if I believe that I can pursue certain observations and inquiries which may be a lasting benefit to medical practice, I should be a base truckler if I allowed any consideration of personal comfort to hinder me.  And the course is all the clearer from there being no salary in question to put my persistence in an equivocal light.”

“I am glad you have told me this, Mr. Lydgate,” said Dorothea, cordially.  “I feel sure I can help a little.  I have some money, and don’t know what to do with it—­that is often an uncomfortable thought to me.  I am sure I can spare two hundred a-year for a grand purpose like this.  How happy you must be, to know things that you feel sure will do great good!  I wish I could awake with that knowledge every morning.  There seems to be so much trouble taken that one can hardly see the good of!”

There was a melancholy cadence in Dorothea’s voice as she spoke these last words.  But she presently added, more cheerfully, “Pray come to Lowick and tell us more of this.  I will mention the subject to Mr. Casaubon.  I must hasten home now.”