The doctor, when speaking of his youth, had spoken of her father; but no one had spoken of her mother.

She had long known that she was the child of a Thorne; now she knew also that she was no cousin of the Thornes of Ullathorne; no cousin, at least, in the world's ordinary language, no niece indeed of her uncle, unless by his special permission that she should be so.
When the interview was over, she went up alone to the drawing-room, and there she sat thinking.

She had not been there long before her uncle came up to her.

He did not sit down, or even take off the hat which he still wore; but coming close to her, and still standing, he spoke thus:-- "Mary, after what has passed I should be very unjust and very cruel to you not to tell you one thing more than you have now learned.

Your mother was unfortunate in much, not in everything; but the world, which is very often stern in such matters, never judged her to have disgraced herself.