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

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to him; “so very, very glad:” and, taking the doctor’s arm, he led

him away into a window, where they were alone. “And how is Mary?”

said he, almost in a whisper. “Oh, I wish she were here! But, doctor,

it shall all come in time. But tell me, doctor, there is no news

about her, is there?”

 

“News—what news?”

 

“Oh, well; no news is good news: you will give her my love, won’t

you?”

 

The doctor said that he would. What else could he say? It appeared

quite clear to him that some of Mary’s fears were groundless.

 

Frank was again very much altered. It has been said, that though

he was a boy at twenty-one, he was a man at twenty-two. But now,

at twenty-three, he appeared to be almost a man of the world. His

manners were easy, his voice under his control, and words were at his

command: he was no longer either shy or noisy; but, perhaps, was open

to the charge of seeming, at least, to be too conscious of his own

merits. He was, indeed, very handsome; tall, manly, and powerfully

built, his form was such as women’s eyes have ever loved to look

upon. “Ah, if he would but marry money!” said Lady Arabella to

herself, taken up by a mother’s natural admiration for her son. His

sisters clung round him before dinner, all talking to him at once.

How proud a family of girls are of one, big, tall, burly brother!

 

“You don’t mean to tell me, Frank, that you are going to eat soup

with that beard?” said the squire, when they were seated round the

table. He had not ceased to rally his son as to this patriarchal

adornment; but, nevertheless, any one could have seen, with half an

eye, that he was as proud of it as were the others.

 

“Don’t I, sir? All I require is a relay of napkins for every course:”

and he went to work, covering it with every spoonful, as men with

beards always do.

 

“Well, if you like it!” said the squire, shrugging his shoulders.

 

“But I do like it,” said Frank.

 

“Oh, papa, you wouldn’t have him cut it off,” said one of the twins.

“It is so handsome.”

 

“I should like to work it into a chair-back instead of floss-silk,”

said the other twin.

 

“Thank’ee, Sophy; I’ll remember you for that.”

 

“Doesn’t it look nice, and grand, and patriarchal?” said Beatrice,

turning to her neighbour.

 

“Patriarchal, certainly,” said Mr Oriel. “I should grow one myself if

I had not the fear of the archbishop before my eyes.”

 

What was next said to him was in a whisper, audible only to himself.

 

“Doctor, did you know Wildman of the 9th. He was left as surgeon at

Scutari for two years. Why, my beard to his is only a little down.”

 

“A little way down, you mean,” said Mr Gazebee.

 

“Yes,” said Frank, resolutely set against laughing at Mr Gazebee’s

pun. “Why, his beard descends to his ankles, and he is obliged to tie

it in a bag at night, because his feet get entangled in it when he is

asleep!”

 

“Oh, Frank!” said one of the girls.

 

This was all very well for the squire, and Lady Arabella, and the

girls. They were all delighted to praise Frank, and talk about him.

Neither did it come amiss to Mr Oriel and the doctor, who had both a

personal interest in the young hero. But Sir Louis did not like it

at all. He was the only baronet in the room, and yet nobody took any

notice of him. He was seated in the post of honour, next to Lady

Arabella; but even Lady Arabella seemed to think more of her own

son than of him. Seeing how he was ill-used, he meditated revenge;

but not the less did it behove him to make some effort to attract

attention.

 

“Was your ladyship long in London, this season?” said he.

 

Lady Arabella had not been in London at all this year, and it

was a sore subject with her. “No,” said she, very graciously;

“circumstances have kept us at home.”

 

Sir Louis only understood one description of “circumstances.”

Circumstances, in his idea, meant the want of money, and he

immediately took Lady Arabella’s speech as a confession of poverty.

 

“Ah, indeed! I am very sorry for that; that must be very distressing

to a person like your ladyship. But things are mending, perhaps?”

 

Lady Arabella did not in the least understand him. “Mending!” she

said, in her peculiar tone of aristocratic indifference; and then

turned to Mr Gazebee, who was on the other side of her.

 

Sir Louis was not going to stand this. He was the first man in the

room, and he knew his own importance. It was not to be borne that

Lady Arabella should turn to talk to a dirty attorney, and leave him,

a baronet, to eat his dinner without notice. If nothing else would

move her, he would let her know who was the real owner of the

Greshamsbury title-deeds.

 

“I think I saw your ladyship out to-day, taking a ride.” Lady

Arabella had driven through the village in her pony-chair.

 

“I never ride,” said she, turning her head for one moment from Mr

Gazebee.

 

“In the one-horse carriage, I mean, my lady. I was delighted with the

way you whipped him up round the corner.”

 

Whipped him up round the corner! Lady Arabella could make no answer

to this; so she went on talking to Mr Gazebee. Sir Louis, repulsed,

but not vanquished—resolved not to be vanquished by any Lady

Arabella—turned his attention to his plate for a minute or two, and

then recommenced.

 

“The honour of a glass of wine with you, Lady Arabella,” said he.

 

“I never take wine at dinner,” said Lady Arabella. The man was

becoming intolerable to her, and she was beginning to fear that it

would be necessary for her to fly the room to get rid of him.

 

The baronet was again silent for a moment; but he was determined not

to be put down.

 

“This is a nice-looking country about here,” said he.

 

“Yes; very nice,” said Mr Gazebee, endeavouring to relieve the lady

of the mansion.

 

“I hardly know which I like best; this, or my own place at Boxall

Hill. You have the advantage here in trees, and those sort of things.

But, as to the house, why, my box there is very comfortable, very.

You’d hardly know the place now, Lady Arabella, if you haven’t seen

it since my governor bought it. How much do you think he spent about

the house and grounds, pineries included, you know, and those sort of

things?”

 

Lady Arabella shook her head.

 

“Now guess, my lady,” said he. But it was not to be supposed that

Lady Arabella should guess on such a subject.

 

“I never guess,” said she, with a look of ineffable disgust.

 

“What do you say, Mr Gazebee?”

 

“Perhaps a hundred thousand pounds.”

 

“What! for a house! You can’t know much about money, nor yet about

building, I think, Mr Gazebee.”

 

“Not much,” said Mr Gazebee, “as to such magnificent places as Boxall

Hill.”

 

“Well, my lady, if you won’t guess, I’ll tell you. It cost twenty-two

thousand four hundred and nineteen pounds four shillings and

eightpence. I’ve all the accounts exact. Now, that’s a tidy lot of

money for a house for a man to live in.”

 

Sir Louis spoke this in a loud tone, which at least commanded the

attention of the table. Lady Arabella, vanquished, bowed her head,

and said that it was a large sum; Mr Gazebee went on sedulously

eating his dinner; the squire was struck momentarily dumb in the

middle of a long chat with the doctor; even Mr Oriel ceased to

whisper; and the girls opened their eyes with astonishment. Before

the end of his speech, Sir Louis’s voice had become very loud.

 

“Yes, indeed,” said Frank; “a very tidy lot of money. I’d have

generously dropped the four and eightpence if I’d been the

architect.”

 

“It wasn’t all one bill; but that’s the tot. I can show the bills:”

and Sir Louis, well pleased with his triumph, swallowed a glass of

wine.

 

Almost immediately after the cloth was removed, Lady Arabella

escaped, and the gentlemen clustered together. Sir Louis found

himself next to Mr Oriel, and began to make himself agreeable.

 

“A very nice girl, Miss Beatrice; very nice.”

 

Now Mr Oriel was a modest man, and, when thus addressed as to his

future wife, found it difficult to make any reply.

 

“You parsons always have your own luck,” said Sir Louis. “You get all

the beauty, and generally all the money, too. Not much of the latter

in this case, though—eh?”

 

Mr Oriel was dumbfounded. He had never said a word to any creature as

to Beatrice’s dowry; and when Mr Gresham had told him, with sorrow,

that his daughter’s portion must be small, he had at once passed away

from the subject as one that was hardly fit for conversation, even

between him and his future father-in-law; and now he was abruptly

questioned on the subject by a man he had never before seen in his

life. Of course, he could make no answer.

 

“The squire has muddled his matters most uncommonly,” continued Sir

Louis, filling his glass for the second time before he passed the

bottle. “What do you suppose now he owes me alone; just at one lump,

you know?”

 

Mr Oriel had nothing for it but to run. He could make no answer, nor

would he sit there to hear tidings as to Mr Gresham’s embarrassments.

So he fairly retreated, without having said one word to his

neighbour, finding such discretion to be the only kind of valour left

to him.

 

“What, Oriel! off already?” said the squire. “Anything the matter?”

 

“Oh, no; nothing particular. I’m not just quite—I think I’ll go out

for a few minutes.”

 

“See what it is to be in love,” said the squire, half-whispering to

Dr Thorne. “You’re not in the same way, I hope?”

 

Sir Louis then shifted his seat again, and found himself next to

Frank. Mr Gazebee was opposite to him, and the doctor opposite to

Frank.

 

“Parson seems peekish, I think,” said the baronet.

 

“Peekish?” said the squire, inquisitively.

 

“Rather down on his luck. He’s decently well off himself, isn’t he?”

 

There was another pause, and nobody seemed inclined to answer the

question.

 

“I mean, he’s got something more than his bare living.”

 

“Oh, yes,” said Frank, laughing. “He’s got what will buy him bread

and cheese when the Rads shut up the Church:—unless, indeed, they

shut up the Funds too.”

 

“Ah, there’s nothing like land,” said Sir Louis: “nothing like the

dirty acres; is there, squire?”

 

“Land is a very good investment, certainly,” said Mr Gresham.

 

“The best going,” said the other, who was now, as people say when

they mean to be good-natured, slightly under the influence of liquor.

“The best going—eh, Gazebee?”

 

Mr Gazebee gathered himself up, and turned away his head, looking out

of the window.

 

“You lawyers never like to give an opinion without money, ha! ha! ha!

Do they, Mr Gresham? You and I have had to pay for plenty of them,

and will have to pay for plenty more before they let us alone.”

 

Here Mr Gazebee got up, and followed Mr Oriel out of the room. He was

not, of course, on such intimate terms in