self-willed, obstinate man—now indeed touched by an unwonted tenderness; but he was one to whose lasting tenderness Dr. Thorne would be very unwilling to trust his darling. He did resolve, that on the whole he should best discharge his duty, even to her, by keeping her to himself, and rejecting, on her behalf, any participation in the baronet's wealth. As Mary herself had said, 'some people must be bound together;' and their destiny, that of himself and his niece, seemed to have so bound them. She had found her place at Greshamsbury, her place in the world; and it would be better for her now to keep it, than to go forth and seek another that would be richer, but at the same time less suited to her.
'No, Scatcherd,' he said at last, 'she cannot come here; she would not be happy here, and, to tell you the truth, I do not wish her to know that she has other relatives.'
'Ah! she would be ashamed of her mother, you mean, and of her mother's brother too, eh? She's too fine a lady, I suppose, to take me by the hand and give me a kiss, and call me her uncle? I and Lady Scatcherd would not be grand enough for her, eh?'
'You may say what you please, Scatcherd: I of course cannot stop you.'
'But I don't know how you'll reconcile what you are doing to your conscience. What right can you have to throw away the girl's chance, now that she has a chance? What fortune can you give her?'
'I have done what little I could,' said Thorne, proudly.
'Well, well, well, well, I never heard such a thing in my life; never. Mary's child, my own Mary's child, and I'm not to see her! But, Thorne, I tell you what; I will see her. I'll go over to her, I'll go to Greshamsbury, and tell her who I am, and what I can do for her. I tell you fairly I will. You shall not keep her away from those who belong to her, and can do her a good turn. Mary's daughter; another Mary Scatcherd! I almost wish she were called Mary Scatcherd. Is she like her, Thorne? Come, tell me that; is she like her mother?'
'I do not remember her mother; at least not in health.'
'Not remember her! ah, well. She was the handsomest girl in Barchester, anyhow. That was given up to her. Well, I didn't ever think to be talking of her again. Thorne, you cannot but expect that I shall go over and see Mary's child?'
'Now, Scatcherd, look here,' and the doctor, coming away from the window, where he had been standing, sat himself down by the bedside, 'you must not come over to Greshamsbury.'
'Oh! but I shall.'
'Listen to me, Scatcherd. I do not want to praise myself in
