'Oh, if I am good enough for you, I am satisfied. I married _you_, and
not the House of Lords. But I am afraid your friends will all say,
"Hartfield, why in heaven's name did you marry that uncultivated
person?" Look!'
She stopped suddenly, with her hand on her husband's arm. It was growing
momentarily darker in the corridor. They were at the end near the lamp,
and that other end by Lady Maulevrier's door was in deeper darkness, yet
not too dark for Lord Hartfield to see what it was to which Mary
pointed.
The red-cloth door was open, and a faint glimmer of light showed within.
A man was standing in the corridor, a small, shrunken figure, bent and
old.
'It is Steadman's uncle,' said Mary 'Do let me go and speak to him,
poor, poor old man.'
'The madman!' exclaimed Hartfield. 'No, Mary; go to your room at once.
I'll get him back to his own den.'
'But he is not mad--at any rate, he is quite harmless. Let me just say a
few words to him. Surely I am safe with you.'
Lord Hartfield was not inclined to dispute that argument; indeed, he
felt himself strong enough to protect his wife from all the lunatics in
Bedlam.
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