"Upon my life I think so," replied Sir Gilbert, in an accent that showed he thought the proposition too self-evident to be discussed. "I have been devilish angry with the girls,--with Helen, I mean,--for I understand that little idiot, Fanny, is just as mad as her mother; but that Helen, and that fine girl, Rosalind Torrington, should shut themselves up with an hypocritical fanatic and a canting mad woman, is enough to put any man out of patience." "The situation has been almost enough to put Helen in her grave; she looks wretchedly; and Miss Torrington is no longer the same creature. It would wring your heart to see these poor girls, Sir Gilbert; and what are they to do?" "Come to us, Charles. Let them both come here instantly, and remain here till your mother's mad fit is over. If it lasts, I shall advise you to take out a commission of lunacy." "The madness is not such as a physician would recognise, Sir Gilbert; and yet I give you my honour that, from many things which my sister and Miss Torrington told me last night, I really do think my mother's reason must be in some degree deranged. And for my poor little Fanny, six months ago the pride and darling of us all, she is, I am quite persuaded, on the verge of insanity." "And you mean to leave her in the power of that distracted driveller, her mother, that the work may be finished?" "What can I do, Sir Gilbert?" "Remove them all. Take them instantly away from her, I tell you." The blood rushed painfully to poor Mowbray's face. "You forget, Sir Gilbert," he said, "that I have not the means: you forget my father's will." "No, sir; I do not forget it. Nor do I forget either that, had I not in a fit of contemptible passion refused to act as executor, I might, I think it possible,--I might have plagued her heart out, and so done some good. I shall never forgive myself!" "But you could have given us no power over the property, Sir Gilbert. We are beggars." "I know it, I know it!" replied the old gentleman, clenching his fists. "I told you so from the first: and now mark my words,--she'll marry her saint before she's six months older." "I trust that in this you are mistaken. The girls have certainly no suspicions of the sort." "The girls are fools, as girls always are. But let them come here, I tell you, and we may save their lives at any rate." "Tell them both from me, Charles, that they shall find a home, and a happy one, here; but don't let them chill that old man's heart again by taking no notice of this, and keeping out of his sight for another three months. He'll have the gout in his stomach as sure as they're born; just tell Helen that from me."