At the end of these twelve years, Dr Thorne had announced, that a young niece, a child of a brother long since dead, was coming to live with him.

As he had contemplated, no one spoke to him; but some people did no doubt talk among themselves.

Whether or not the exact truth was surmised by any, it matters not to say; with absolute exactness, probably not; with great approach to it, probably yes.

By one person, at any rate, no guess whatever was made; no thought relative to Dr Thorne's niece ever troubled him; no idea that Mary Scatcherd had left a child in England ever occurred to him; and that person was Roger Scatcherd, Mary's brother.
To one friend, and only one, did the doctor tell the whole truth, and that was to the old squire.

"I have told you," said the doctor, "partly that you may know that the child has no right to mix with your children if you think much of such things.