Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope (good books to read for young adults TXT) 📕

him; and looking at the age of the proposed bride, there was nothing unsuitable in that respect.

But nevertheless he felt almost ashamed of himself, in that he allowed himself even to think of the proposition which his niece had made. He mounted his horse that day at Boxall Hill⁠—for he made all his journeys about the county on horseback⁠—and rode slowly home to Greshamsbury, thinking not so much of the suggested marriage as of his own folly in thinking of it. How could he be such an ass at his time of life as to allow the even course of his way to be disturbed by any such idea? Of course he could not propose to himself such a wife as Miss Dunstable without having some thoughts as to her wealth; and it had been the pride of his life so to live that the world might know that he was indifferent about money. His profession was all in all to him⁠—the air which he breathed as well as the bread which he ate; and how could he follow his profession if he made such a marriage as this? She would expect him to go to London with her; and what would he become, dangling at her heels there, known only to the world as the husband of the richest woman in the town? The kind of life was one which would be unsuitable to him;⁠—and yet, as he rode home, he could not resolve to rid himself of the idea. He went on thinking of it, though he still continued to condemn himself for keeping it in his thoughts. That night at home he would make up his mind, so he declared to himself; and would then write to his niece begging her to drop the subject. Having so far come to a resolution he went on meditating what course of life it might be well for him to pursue if he and Miss Dunstable should, after all, become man and wife.

There were two ladies whom it behoved him to see on the day of his arrival⁠—whom, indeed, he generally saw every day except when absent from Greshamsbury. The first of these⁠—first in the general consideration of the people of the place⁠—was the wife of the squire, Lady Arabella Gresham, a very old patient of the doctor’s. Her it was his custom to visit early in the afternoon; and then, if he were able to escape the squire’s daily invitation to dinner, he customarily went to the other, Lady Scatcherd, when the rapid meal in his own house was over. Such, at least, was his summer practice.

“Well, doctor, how are they at Boxall Hill?” said the squire, waylaying him on the gravel sweep before the door. The squire was very hard set for occupation in these summer months.

“Quite well, I believe.”

“I don’t know what’s come to Frank. I think he hates this place now. He’s full of the election, I suppose.”

“Oh, yes; he told me to say he should be over here soon. Of course there’ll be no contest, so he need not trouble himself.”

“Happy dog, isn’t he, doctor? to have it all before him instead of behind him. Well, well; he’s as good a lad as ever lived⁠—as ever lived. And let me see; Mary’s time⁠—” And then there were a few very important words spoken on that subject.

“I’ll just step up to Lady Arabella now,” said the doctor.

“She’s as fretful as possible,” said the squire. “I’ve just left her.”

“Nothing special the matter, I hope?”

“No, I think not; nothing in your way, that is; only specially cross, which always comes in my way. You’ll stop and dine today, of course?”

“Not today, squire.”

“Nonsense; you will. I have been quite counting on you. I have a particular reason for wanting to have you today⁠—a most particular reason.” But the squire always had his particular reasons.

“I’m very sorry, but it is impossible today. I shall have a letter to write that I must sit down to seriously. Shall I see you when I come down from her ladyship?”

The squire turned away sulkily, almost without answering him, for he now had no prospect of any alleviation to the tedium of the evening; and the doctor went upstairs to his patient.

For Lady Arabella, though it cannot be said that she was ill, was always a patient. It must not be supposed that she kept her bed and swallowed daily doses, or was prevented from taking her share in such prosy gaieties as came from time to time in the way of her prosy life; but it suited her turn of mind to be an invalid and to have a doctor; and as the doctor whom her good fates had placed at her elbow thoroughly understood her case, no great harm was done.

“It frets me dreadfully that I cannot get to see Mary,” Lady Arabella said, as soon as the first ordinary question as to her ailments had been asked and answered.

“She’s quite well and will be over to see you before long.”

“Now I beg that she won’t. She never thinks of coming when there can be no possible objection, and travelling, at the present moment, would be⁠—” Whereupon the Lady Arabella shook her head very gravely. “Only think of the importance of it, doctor,” she said. “Remember the enormous stake there is to be considered.”

“It would not do her a ha’porth of harm if the stake were twice as large.”

“Nonsense, doctor, don’t tell me; as if I didn’t know myself. I was very much against her going to London this spring, but of course what I said was overruled. It always is. I do believe Mr. Gresham went over to Boxall Hill, on purpose to induce her to go. But what does he care? He’s fond of Frank; but he never thinks of looking beyond the present day. He never did, as you know well enough, doctor.”

“The trip did her all the good in the world,” said Dr. Thorne, preferring anything to a conversation respecting