“I don’t understand you, Sir Patrick.  Be so good as to explain yourself.”

Sir Patrick assumed a new character—­the character of a hesitating man.  He cast a look of respectful inquiry at his sister-in-law, sighed, and shook his head.

“No!” he said.  “It would be asking too much.  Even with your high standard of duty, it would be asking too much.”

“Nothing which you can ask me in the name of duty is too much.”

“No! no!  Let me remind you.  Human nature has its limits.”

“A Christian gentlewoman’s sense of duty knows no limits.”

“Oh, surely yes!”

“Sir Patrick! after what I have just said your perseverance in doubting me amounts to something like an insult!”

“Don’t say that!  Let me put a case.  Let’s suppose the future interests of another person depend on your saying, Yes—­when all your own most cherished ideas and opinions urge you to say, No.  Do you really mean to tell me that you could trample your own convictions under foot, if it could be shown that the purely abstract consideration of duty was involved in the sacrifice?”

“Yes!” cried Lady Lundie, mounting the pedestal of her virtue on the spot.  “Yes—­without a moment’s hesitation!”

“I sit corrected, Lady Lundie.  You embolden me to proceed.  Allow me to ask (after what I just heard)—­whether it is not your duty to act on advice given for Blanche’s benefit, by one the highest medical authorities in England?” Her ladyship admitted that it was her duty; pending a more favorable opportunity for contradicting her brother-in-law.

“Very good,” pursued Sir Patrick.  “Assuming that Blanche is like most other human beings, and has some prospect of happiness to contemplate, if she could only be made to see it—­are we not bound to make her see it, by our moral obligation to act on the medical advice?” He cast a courteously-persuasive look at her ladyship, and paused in the most innocent manner for a reply.

If Lady Lundie had not been bent—­thanks to the irritation fomented by her brother-in-law—­on disputing the ground with him, inch by inch, she must have seen signs, by this time, of the snare that was being set for her.  As it was, she saw nothing but the opportunity of disparaging Blanche and contradicting Sir Patrick.

“If my step-daughter had any such prospect as you describe,” she answered, “I should of course say, Yes.  But Blanche’s is an ill-regulated mind.  An ill-regulated mind has no prospect of happiness.”

“Pardon me,” said Sir Patrick.  “Blanche has a prospect of happiness.  In other words, Blanche has a prospect of being married.  And what is more, Arnold Brinkworth is ready to marry her as soon as the settlements can be prepared.”

Lady Lundie started in her chair—­turned crimson with rage—­and opened her lips to speak.  Sir Patrick rose to his feet, and went on before she could utter a word.