When the carriage drove up to the gate of the manor, Dorothea was out on the gravel, and came to greet them.
“Well, my dear,” said Mr Brooke, “we have just come from a meeting—a sanitary meeting, you know.”
“Was Mr Lydgate there?” said Dorothea, who looked full of health and animation, and stood with her head bare under the gleaming April lights. “I want to see him and have a great consultation with him about the Hospital. I have engaged with Mr Bulstrode to do so.”
“Oh, my dear,” said Mr Brooke, “we have been hearing bad news—bad news, you know.”
They walked through the garden towards the churchyard gate, Mr Farebrother wanting to go on to the parsonage; and Dorothea heard the whole sad story.
She listened with deep interest, and begged to hear twice over the facts and impressions concerning Lydgate. After a short silence, pausing at the churchyard gate, and addressing Mr Farebrother, she said energetically—
“You don’t believe that Mr Lydgate is guilty of anything base? I will not believe it. Let us find out the truth and clear him!”
