Doctor Thorne by Anthony Trollope (epub ebook reader .TXT) 📕

has arrived, and is looking remarkably well; she has

quite a distingué air, and will grace any circle to which she may

be introduced. I will introduce you before dinner, and you can take

her out.”

 

“I couldn’t propose to her to-night, I suppose?” said Frank,

maliciously.

 

“Don’t talk nonsense, Frank,” said the countess, angrily. “I am doing

what I can for you, and taking on an infinity of trouble to endeavour

to place you in an independent position; and now you talk nonsense to

me.”

 

Frank muttered some sort of apology, and then went to prepare himself

for the encounter.

 

Miss Dunstable, though she had come by train, had brought with her

her own carriage, her own horses, her own coachman and footman, and

her own maid, of course. She had also brought with her half a score

of trunks, full of wearing apparel; some of them nearly as rich as

that wonderful box which was stolen a short time since from the top

of a cab. But she brought all these things, not in the least because

she wanted them herself, but because she had been instructed to do

so.

 

Frank was a little more than ordinarily careful in dressing. He

spoilt a couple of white neckties before he was satisfied, and was

rather fastidious as the set of his hair. There was not much of the

dandy about him in the ordinary meaning of the word; but he felt that

it was incumbent on him to look his best, seeing what it was expected

that he should now do. He certainly did not mean to marry Miss

Dunstable; but as he was to have a flirtation with her, it was well

that he should do so under the best possible auspices.

 

When he entered the drawing-room he perceived at once that the lady

was there. She was seated between the countess and Mrs Proudie; and

mammon, in her person, was receiving worship from the temporalities

and spiritualities of the land. He tried to look unconcerned, and

remained in the farther part of the room, talking with some of his

cousins; but he could not keep his eye off the future possible Mrs

Frank Gresham; and it seemed as though she was as much constrained to

scrutinise him as he felt to scrutinise her.

 

Lady de Courcy had declared that she was looking extremely well, and

had particularly alluded to her distingué appearance. Frank at once

felt that he could not altogether go along with his aunt in this

opinion. Miss Dunstable might be very well; but her style of beauty

was one which did not quite meet with his warmest admiration.

 

In age she was about thirty; but Frank, who was no great judge in

these matters, and who was accustomed to have very young girls round

him, at once put her down as being ten years older. She had a very

high colour, very red cheeks, a large mouth, big white teeth, a broad

nose, and bright, small, black eyes. Her hair also was black and

bright, but very crisp, and strong, and was combed close round her

face in small crisp black ringlets. Since she had been brought out

into the fashionable world some one of her instructors in fashion

had given her to understand that curls were not the thing. “They’ll

always pass muster,” Miss Dunstable had replied, “when they are done

up with bank-notes.” It may therefore be presumed that Miss Dunstable

had a will of her own.

 

“Frank,” said the countess, in the most natural and unpremeditated

way, as soon as she caught her nephew’s eye, “come here. I want to

introduce you to Miss Dunstable.” The introduction was then made.

“Mrs Proudie, would you excuse me? I must positively go and say a few

words to Mrs Barlow, or the poor woman will feel herself huffed;”

and, so saying, she moved off, leaving the coast clear for Master

Frank.

 

He of course slipped into his aunt’s place, and expressed a hope that

Miss Dunstable was not fatigued by her journey.

 

“Fatigued!” said she, in a voice rather loud, but very good-humoured,

and not altogether unpleasing; “I am not to be fatigued by such a

thing as that. Why, in May we came through all the way from Rome to

Paris without sleeping—that is, without sleeping in a bed—and we

were upset three times out of the sledges coming over the Simplon. It

was such fun! Why, I wasn’t to say tired even then.”

 

“All the way from Rome to Paris!” said Mrs Proudie—in a tone of

astonishment, meant to flatter the heiress—“and what made you in

such a hurry?”

 

“Something about money matters,” said Miss Dunstable, speaking rather

louder than usual. “Something to do with the ointment. I was selling

the business just then.”

 

Mrs Proudie bowed, and immediately changed the conversation.

“Idolatry is, I believe, more rampant than ever in Rome,” said she;

“and I fear there is no such thing at all as Sabbath observance.”

 

“Oh, not in the least,” said Miss Dunstable, with rather a joyous

air; “Sundays and week-days are all the same there.”

 

“How very frightful!” said Mrs Proudie.

 

“But it’s a delicious place. I do like Rome, I must say. And as for

the Pope, if he wasn’t quite so fat he would be the nicest old fellow

in the world. Have you been in Rome, Mrs Proudie?”

 

Mrs Proudie sighed as she replied in the negative, and declared her

belief that danger was to be apprehended from such visits.

 

“Oh!—ah!—the malaria—of course—yes; if you go at the wrong time;

but nobody is such a fool as that now.”

 

“I was thinking of the soul, Miss Dunstable,” said the lady-bishop,

in her peculiar, grave tone. “A place where there are no Sabbath

observances—”

 

“And have you been in Rome, Mr Gresham?” said the young lady, turning

almost abruptly round to Frank, and giving a somewhat uncivilly cold

shoulder to Mrs Proudie’s exhortation. She, poor lady, was forced to

finish her speech to the Honourable George, who was standing near to

her. He having an idea that bishops and all their belongings, like

other things appertaining to religion, should, if possible, be

avoided; but if that were not possible, should be treated with

much assumed gravity, immediately put on a long face, and remarked

that—“it was a deuced shame: for his part he always liked to see

people go quiet on Sundays. The parsons had only one day out of

seven, and he thought they were fully entitled to that.” Satisfied

with which, or not satisfied, Mrs Proudie had to remain silent till

dinner-time.

 

“No,” said Frank; “I never was in Rome. I was in Paris once, and

that’s all.” And then, feeling a not unnatural anxiety as to the

present state of Miss Dunstable’s worldly concerns, he took an

opportunity of falling back on that part of the conversation which

Mrs Proudie had exercised so much tact in avoiding.

 

“And was it sold?” said he.

 

“Sold! what sold?”

 

“You were saying about the business—that you came back without going

to bed because of selling the business.”

 

“Oh!—the ointment. No; it was not sold. After all, the affair did

not come off, and I might have remained and had another roll in the

snow. Wasn’t it a pity?”

 

“So,” said Frank to himself, “if I should do it, I should be owner of

the ointment of Lebanon: how odd!” And then he gave her his arm and

handed her down to dinner.

 

He certainly found that the dinner was less dull than any other he

had sat down to at Courcy Castle. He did not fancy that he should

ever fall in love with Miss Dunstable; but she certainly was an

agreeable companion. She told him of her tour, and the fun she had in

her journeys; how she took a physician with her for the benefit of

her health, whom she generally was forced to nurse; of the trouble it

was to her to look after and wait upon her numerous servants; of the

tricks she played to bamboozle people who came to stare at her; and,

lastly, she told him of a lover who followed her from country to

country, and was now in hot pursuit of her, having arrived in London

the evening before she left.

 

“A lover?” said Frank, somewhat startled by the suddenness of the

confidence.

 

“A lover—yes—Mr Gresham; why should I not have a lover?”

 

“Oh!—no—of course not. I dare say you have a good many.”

 

“Only three or four, upon my word; that is, only three or four that I

favour. One is not bound to reckon the others, you know.”

 

“No, they’d be too numerous. And so you have three whom you favour,

Miss Dunstable;” and Frank sighed, as though he intended to say that

the number was too many for his peace of mind.

 

“Is not that quite enough? But of course I change them sometimes;”

and she smiled on him very good-naturedly. “It would be very dull if

I were always to keep the same.”

 

“Very dull indeed,” said Frank, who did not quite know what to say.

 

“Do you think the countess would mind my having one or two of them

here if I were to ask her?”

 

“I am quite sure she would,” said Frank, very briskly. “She would not

approve of it at all; nor should I.”

 

“You—why, what have you to do with it?”

 

“A great deal—so much so that I positively forbid it; but, Miss

Dunstable—”

 

“Well, Mr Gresham?”

 

“We will contrive to make up for the deficiency as well as possible,

if you will permit us to do so. Now for myself—”

 

“Well, for yourself?”

 

At this moment the countess gleamed her accomplished eye round the

table, and Miss Dunstable rose from her chair as Frank was preparing

his attack, and accompanied the other ladies into the drawing-room.

 

His aunt, as she passed him, touched his arm lightly with her fan, so

lightly that the action was perceived by no one else. But Frank well

understood the meaning of the touch, and appreciated the approbation

which it conveyed. He merely blushed, however, at his own

dissimulation; for he felt more certain that ever that he would never

marry Miss Dunstable, and he felt nearly equally sure that Miss

Dunstable would never marry him.

 

Lord de Courcy was now at home; but his presence did not add much

hilarity to the claret-cup. The young men, however, were very keen

about the election, and Mr Nearthewinde, who was one of the party,

was full of the most sanguine hopes.

 

“I have done one good at any rate,” said Frank; “I have secured the

chorister’s vote.”

 

“What! Bagley?” said Nearthewinde. “The fellow kept out of my way,

and I couldn’t see him.”

 

“I haven’t exactly seen him,” said Frank; “but I’ve got his vote all

the same.”

 

“What! by a letter?” said Mr Moffat.

 

“No, not by letter,” said Frank, speaking rather low as he looked at

the bishop and the earl; “I got a promise from his wife: I think he’s

a little in the henpecked line.”

 

“Ha—ha—ha!” laughed the good bishop, who, in spite of Frank’s

modulation of voice, had overheard what had passed. “Is that the way

you manage electioneering matters in our cathedral city? Ha—ha—ha!”

The idea of one of his choristers being in the henpecked line was

very amusing to the bishop.

 

“Oh, I got a distinct promise,” said Frank, in his pride; and then

added incautiously, “but I had to order bonnets for the whole

family.”

 

“Hush-h-h-h-h!” said Mr Nearthewinde, absolutely flabbergasted