And the doctor—­proud, arrogant, contradictory, headstrong as he was—­why did he bear to be thus snubbed?  Because he knew that the squire of Greshamsbury, when struggling with debt and poverty, required an indulgence for his weakness.  Had Mr Gresham been in easy circumstances, the doctor would by no means have stood so placidly with his hands in his pockets, and have had Mr Umbleby thus thrown in his teeth.  The doctor loved the squire, loved him as his own oldest friend; but he loved him ten times better as being in adversity than he could ever done had things gone well at Greshamsbury in his time.

While this was going on downstairs, Mary was sitting upstairs with Beatrice Gresham in the schoolroom.  The old schoolroom, so called, was now a sitting-room, devoted to the use of the grown-up ladies of the family, whereas one of the old nurseries was now the modern schoolroom.  Mary well knew her way to the sanctum, and, without asking any questions, walked up to it when her uncle went to the squire.  On entering the room she found that Augusta and the Lady Alexandrina were also there, and she hesitated for a moment at the door.

‘Come in, Mary,’ said Beatrice, ‘you know my cousin Alexandrina.’  Mary came in, and having shaken hands with her two friends, was bowing to the lady, when the lady condescended, put out her noble hand, and touched Miss Thorne’s fingers.

Beatrice was Mary’s friend, and many heart-burnings and much mental solicitude did that young lady give to her mother by indulging in such a friendship.  But Beatrice, with some faults, was true at heart, and she persisted in loving Mary Thorne in spite of the hints which her mother so frequently gave as to the impropriety of such an affection.

Nor had Augusta any objection to the society of Miss Thorne.  Augusta was a strong-minded girl, with much of the De Courcy arrogance, but quite as well inclined to show it in opposition to her mother as in any other form.  To her alone in the house did Lady Arabella show much deference.  She was now going to make a suitable match with a man of large fortune, who had been procured for her as an eligible parti by her aunt, the countess.  She did not pretend, had never pretended, that she loved Mr Moffat, but she knew, she said, that in the present state of her father’s affairs such a match was expedient.  Mr Moffat was a young man of very large fortune, in Parliament, and inclined to business, and in every way recommendable.  He was not a man of birth, to be sure; that was to be lamented;—­in confessing that Mr Moffat was not a man of birth, Augusta did not go so far as to admit that he was the son of a tailor; such, however, was the rigid truth in this matter—­he was not a man of birth, that was to be lamented; but in the present state of affairs at Greshamsbury, she understood well that it was her duty to postpone her own feelings in some respect.  Mr Moffat would bring fortune; she would bring blood and connexion.  And as she so said, her bosom glowed with strong pride to think that she would be able to contribute so much more towards the proposed future partnership than her husband would do.