'So Dr Norberry, these are your uncommon folks!'--exclaimed Mrs Norberry on hearing of the marriage and of the subsequent elopement;--'I suppose you are now well satisfied at not having a genius for your wife, or geniuses for your daughters?' 'I always was, my dear,' meekly replied the mortified and afflicted doctor, and dropped the subject as soon as possible; nor had it been resumed for some time when Adeline accosted them on the beach at Brighton. But her appearance called forth their dormant enmity; and the whole way to their lodgings the good doctor heard her guilt expatiated upon with as much violence as ever: but just as they got home he coldly and firmly observed, 'I shall certainly call on the poor deluded girl this evening.' And Mrs Norberry, knowing by the tone and manner in which he spoke, that this was a point which he would not give up, contented herself with requiring only that he should go in the dark hour. CHAPTER XV It was to a wife and daughters such as these that he was returning, with the benevolent wish of interesting them for the guilty Adeline. 'So, Dr Norberry, you are come back at last!' was his first salutation, 'and what does the creature say for herself?' 'The creature!--Your fellow-creature, my dear, says very little--grief is not wordy.' 'Grief!--So then she is unhappy, is she?' cries Miss Norberry; 'I am monstrous glad of it.' The doctor started; and an oath nearly escaped his lips. He did say, 'Why, zounds, Jane!'--but then he added, in a softer tone, 'Why do you rejoice in a poor girl's affliction?' 'Because I think it is for the good of her soul.' 'Good girl!' replied the father:--'Jane, (seizing her hand,) may your soul never need such a medicine!' 'It never will,' said her mother proudly: 'she has been differently brought up.' 'She has been well brought up, you might have added,' observed the doctor, 'had modesty permitted it. Mrs Mowbray, poor woman, had good intentions; but she was too flighty. Had Adeline, my children, had such a mother as yours, she would have been like you.' 'But not half so handsome,' interrupted the mother in a low voice. 'But as our faults and our virtues, my dear, depend so much on the care and instruction of others, we should look with pity, as well as aversion on the faults of those less fortunate in instructors than we have been.' 'Certainly;--very true,' said Mrs Norberry, flattered and affected by this compliment from her husband: 'but you know, James Norberry,' laying her hand on his, 'I always told you you overrated Mrs Mowbray; and that she was but a dawdle after all.' 'You always did, my good woman,' replied he, raising her hand to his lips. 'But you men think yourselves much wiser than we are!' 'We do so,' replied the doctor.