Doctor Thorne by Anthony Trollope (epub e ink reader .TXT) 📕
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Doctor Thorne is the third book in Trollope’s “Chronicles of Barsetshire” series, which is set in the fictional county of Barsetshire, somewhere in England’s West Country. Unlike the two earlier novels in the series, Doctor Thorne isn’t set in the cathedral city of Barchester, but in the small village of Greshamsbury and the estate of the local squire, Greshamsbury Park.
Doctor Thorne is a middle-aged medical practitioner in Greshamsbury, a friend of the local squire Mr. Gresham, who is deeply in debt because of ill-advised attempts to gain a seat in Parliament. Doctor Thorne not only provides medical advice to the Greshams, but also assists Mr. Gresham in obtaining financial loans from a local self-made entrepreneur, Sir Richard Scratcherd. When Mr. Gresham’s son Frank comes of age, it is impressed on the young man that he must “marry money” to overcome the debts of the estate.
Doctor Thorne is regarded highly among Trollope’s works, with one prominent critic, Michael Sadleir, writing in 1927 of “the sensational perfection of Doctor Thorne.”
A television adaptation of the book was produced by ITV and aired in March 2016, with a script written by Julian Fellowes, the writer of Gosford Park and Downton Abbey
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- Author: Anthony Trollope
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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 the house as was Mr. Oriel; but he hoped to be forgiven by the ladies in consequence of the severity of the miseries to which he was subjected. He and Mr. Oriel were soon to be seen through the dining-room window, walking about the grounds with the two eldest Miss Greshams. And Patience Oriel, who had also been of the party, was also to be seen with the twins. Frank looked at his father with almost a malicious smile, and began to think that he too might be better employed out among the walks. Did he think then of a former summer evening, when he had half broken Mary’s heart by walking there too lovingly with Patience Oriel?
Sir Louis, if he continued his brilliant career of success, would soon be left the cock of the walk. The squire, to be sure, could not bolt, nor could the doctor very well; but they might be equally vanquished, remaining there in their chairs. Dr. Thorne, during all this time, was sitting with tingling ears. Indeed, it may be said that his whole body tingled. He was in a manner responsible for this horrid scene; but what could he do to stop it? He could not take Sir Louis up bodily and carry him away. One idea did occur to him. The fly had been ordered for ten o’clock. He could rush out and send for it instantly.
“You’re not going to leave me?” said the squire, in a voice of horror, as he saw the doctor rising from his chair.
“Oh, no, no, no,” said the doctor; and then he whispered the purpose of his mission. “I will be back in two minutes.” The doctor would have given twenty pounds to have closed the scene at once; but he was not the man to desert his friend in such a strait as that.
“He’s a well-meaning fellow, the doctor,” said Sir Louis, when his guardian was out of the room, “very; but he’s not up to trap—not at all.”
“Up to trap—well, I should say he was; that is, if I know what trap means,” said Frank.
“Ah, but that’s just the ticket. Do you know? Now I say Dr. Thorne’s not a man of the world.”
“He’s about the best man I know, or ever heard of,” said the squire. “And if any man ever had a good friend, you have got one in him; and so have I:” and the squire silently drank the doctor’s health.
“All very true, I dare say; but yet he’s not up to trap. Now look here, squire—”
“If you don’t mind, sir,” said Frank, “I’ve got something very particular—perhaps, however—”
“Stay till Thorne returns, Frank.”
Frank did stay till Thorne returned, and then escaped.
“Excuse me, doctor,” said he, “but I’ve something very particular to say; I’ll explain tomorrow.” And then the three were left alone.
Sir Louis was now becoming almost drunk,
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