John’s, and great scandal arose in orthodox circles.  Mr. Bride took quite another view of the matter, and declared that, in doing so, he behaved simply as a Christian.  The debate exasperated Lady Ogram’s violent temper, and fortified Mr. Bride in a resentful obstinacy.  After their parting, in high dudgeon, letters were exchanged, which merely embittered the quarrel.  It was reported that the Lady of Rivenoak had publicly styled the curate of St. John’s “a low-born and ill-bred parson;” whereto Mr. Bride was alleged to have made retort that as regards birth, he suspected that he had somewhat the advantage of Lady Ogram, and, as for his breeding, it at all events forebade him to bandy insults.  Not long after this, St. John’s had another curate.  A sequel of the story was the ultimate settling at Hollingford of Mr. Bride’s sister and her husband, where, to this day the woman, for some years a widow, supported herself by means of a little bakery

“I hadn’t seen Lady Ogram for a long time,” Constance pursued, “and when I got my place of dispenser at Hollingford hospital, I had no idea of recalling myself to her memory.  But one day my friend Dr. Baldwin told me that Lady Ogram had spoken of me, and wished to see me.  ‘Very well,’ said I, ’than let Lady Ogram invite me to come and see her.’—­’If I were you,’ said the doctor, ’I think I shouldn’t wait for that.’—­’Perhaps not, doctor,’ I replied, ’but you are not me, and I am myself.’  The result of which was that Dr. Baldwin told me I had as little grammar as civility, and we quarrelled—­as we regularly did once a week.”

Dyce listened with amusement.

“And she did invite you?” he asked.

“Yes.  A month afterwards, she wrote to the hospital, and, as the letter was decent, though very dry, I went to Rivenoak.  I could not help a kindly feeling to Lady Ogram, when I saw her; it reminded me of some of the happiest days of my childhood.  All the same, that first quarter of an hour was very dangerous.  As you know, I have a certain pride of my own, and more than once it made my ears tingle.  I dare say you can guess Lady Ogram’s way of talking to me; we’ll call it blunt good-nature.  ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.  ‘Mix medicines all your life?’ I told her that I should like to pass my exams, and practise, instead of mixing medicines.  That seemed to surprise her, and she pooh’d the idea.  ‘I shan’t help you to that,’ she said.  ’I never asked you, Lady Ogram!’—­It was a toss up whether she would turn me out of the house or admire my courage:  she is capable of one or the other.  Her next question was, where did I live?  I told her I lodged with my aunt, Mrs. Shufflebotham; and her face went black.  Mrs. Shufflebotham, I have been told, was somehow the cause of a quarrel between my father and Lady Ogram.  That was nothing to me.  My aunt is a kind and very honest woman, and I wasn’t going to disown her.  Of course I had done the wise, as well as the self-respecting, thing; I soon saw that Lady Ogram thought all the better of me because I was not exactly a snob.”