Ethel was ashamed of herself when she saw him taking thought for them, tying Blanche's bonnet, putting Aubrey's gloves on, teaching them to put away their Sunday toys, as if he meant them to be as neat and precise as himself.
Dr.May did not encounter the family dinner, nor attempt a second going to church; but Blanche was very glorious as she led him down to drink tea, and, before going up again, he had a conversation with Alan Ernescliffe, who felt himself obliged to leave Stoneborough early on the morrow.
"I can endure better to go now," said he, "and I shall hear of you often; Hector will let me know, and Richard has promised to write." "Ay, you must let us often have a line.

I should guess you were a letter-writing man." "I have hitherto had too few friends who cared to hear of me to write much, but the pleasure of knowing that any interest is taken in me here--" "Well," said the doctor, "mind that a letter will always be welcome, and when you are coming southwards, here are your old quarters.

We cannot lose sight of you anyway, especially"-- and his voice quivered--"after the help you gave my poor boys and girls in their distress." "It would be the utmost satisfaction to think I had been of the smallest use," said Alan, hiding much under these commonplace words.
"More than I know," said Dr.May; "too much to speak of.

Well, we shall see you again, though it is a changed place, and you must come and see your god-daughter--poor child--may she only be brought up as her sisters were! They will do their best, poor things, and so must I, but it is sad work!" Both were too much overcome for words, but the doctor was the first to continue, as he took off his dimmed spectacles.

He seemed to wish to excuse himself for giving way; saying, with a look that would fain have been a smile, "The world has run so light and easy with me hitherto, that you see I don't know how to bear with trouble.