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

more of you, a deal more than ever I did yet. Come, Thorne, I’m her uncle too. I have a right to know. She is Mary Thorne, isn’t she?”

The doctor had not the hardihood nor the resolution to deny it. “Yes,” said he, “that is her name; she lives with me.”

“Yes, and lives with all those grand folks at Greshamsbury too. I have heard of that.”

“She lives with me, and belongs to me, and is as my daughter.”

“She shall come over here. Lady Scatcherd shall have her to stay with her. She shall come to us. And as for my will, I’ll make another. I’ll⁠—”

“Yes, make another will⁠—or else alter that one. But as to Miss Thorne coming here⁠—”

“What! Mary⁠—”

“Well, Mary. As to Mary Thorne coming here, that I fear will not be possible. She cannot have two homes. She has cast her lot with one of her uncles, and she must remain with him now.”

“Do you mean to say that she must never have any relation but one?”

“But one such as I am. She would not be happy over here. She does not like new faces. You have enough depending on you; I have but her.”

“Enough! why, I have only Louis Philippe. I could provide for a dozen girls.”

“Well, well, well, we will not talk about that.”

“Ah! but, Thorne, you have told me of this girl now, and I cannot but talk of her. If you wished to keep the matter dark, you should have said nothing about it. She is my niece as much as yours. And, Thorne, I loved my sister Mary quite as well as you loved your brother; quite as well.”

Anyone who might now have heard and seen the contractor would have hardly thought him to be the same man who, a few hours before, was urging that the Barchester physician should be put under the pump.

“You have your son, Scatcherd. I have no one but that girl.”

“I don’t want to take her from you. I don’t want to take her; but surely there can be no harm in her coming here to see us? I can provide for her, Thorne, remember that. I can provide for her without reference to Louis Philippe. What are ten or fifteen thousand pounds to me? Remember that, Thorne.”

Dr. Thorne did remember it. In that interview he remembered many things, and much passed through his mind on which he felt himself compelled to resolve somewhat too suddenly. Would he be justified in rejecting, on behalf of Mary, the offer of pecuniary provision which this rich relative seemed so well inclined to make? Or, if he accepted it, would he in truth be studying her interests? Scatcherd was a self-willed, obstinate man⁠—now indeed touched by unwonted tenderness; but he was one to whose lasting tenderness Dr. Thorne would be very unwilling to trust his darling. He did resolve, that on the whole he should best discharge his duty, even to her, by keeping her to himself, and rejecting, on her behalf, any participation in the baronet’s wealth. As Mary herself had said, “some people must be bound together;” and their destiny, that of himself and his niece, seemed to have so bound them. She had found her place at Greshamsbury, her place in the world; and it would be better for her now to keep it, than to go forth and seek another that would be richer, but at the same time less suited to her.

“No, Scatcherd,” he said at last, “she cannot come here; she would not be happy here, and, to tell the truth, I do not wish her to know that she has other relatives.”

“Ah! she would be ashamed of her mother, you mean, and of her mother’s brother too, eh? She’s too fine a lady, I suppose, to take me by the hand and give me a kiss, and call me her uncle? I and Lady Scatcherd would not be grand enough for her, eh?”

“You may say what you please, Scatcherd: I of course cannot stop you.”

“But I don’t know how you’ll reconcile what you are doing to your conscience. What right can you have to throw away the girl’s chance, now that she has a chance? What fortune can you give her?”

“I have done what little I could,” said Thorne, proudly.

“Well, well, well, well, I never heard such a thing in my life; never. Mary’s child, my own Mary’s child, and I’m not to see her! But, Thorne, I tell you what; I will see her. I’ll go over to her, I’ll go to Greshamsbury, and tell her who I am, and what I can do for her. I tell you fairly I will. You shall not keep her away from those who belong to her, and can do her a good turn. Mary’s daughter; another Mary Scatcherd! I almost wish she were called Mary Scatcherd. Is she like her, Thorne? Come, tell me that, is she like her mother.”

“I do not remember her mother; at least not in health.”

“Not remember her! ah, well. She was the handsomest girl in Barchester, anyhow. That was given up to her. Well, I didn’t think to be talking of her again. Thorne, you cannot but expect that I shall go over and see Mary’s child?”

“Now, Scatcherd, look here,” and the doctor, coming away from the window, where he had been standing, sat himself down by the bedside, “you must not come over to Greshamsbury.”

“Oh! but I shall.”

“Listen to me, Scatcherd. I do not want to praise myself in any way; but when that girl was an infant, six months old, she was like to be a thorough obstacle to her mother’s fortune in life. Tomlinson was willing to marry your sister, but he would not marry the child too. Then I took the baby, and I promised her mother that I would be to her as a father. I have kept my word as fairly as I have been able. She has sat at my hearth, and drunk of my