Doctor Thorne

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XIV

  Sentence of Exile

  Dr Thorne did not at once go home to his own house. When he reachedthe Greshamsbury gates, he sent his horse to its own stable by one ofthe people at the lodge, and then walked on to the mansion. He hadto see the squire on the subject of the forthcoming loan, and he hadalso to see Lady Arabella.

  The Lady Arabella, though she was not personally attached to thedoctor with quite so much warmth as some others of her family, stillhad reasons of her own for not dispensing with his visits to thehouse. She was one of his patients, and a patient fearful of thedisease with which she was threatened. Though she thought the doctorto be arrogant, deficient as to properly submissive demeanourtowards herself, an instigator to marital parsimony in her lord,one altogether opposed to herself and her interest in Greshamsburypolitics, nevertheless, she did feel trust in him as a medical man.She had no wish to be rescued out of his hands by any Dr Fillgrave,as regarded that complaint of hers, much as she may have desired,and did desire, to sever him from all Greshamsbury councils in allmatters not touching the healing art.

  Now the complaint of which the Lady Arabella was afraid, was cancer:and her only present confidant in this matter was Dr Thorne.

  The first of the Greshamsbury circle whom he saw was Beatrice, and hemet her in the garden.

  "Oh, doctor," said she, "where has Mary been this age? She has notbeen up here since Frank's birthday."

  "Well, that was only three days ago. Why don't you go down and ferrether out in the village?"

  "So I have done. I was there just now, and found her out. She was outwith Patience Oriel. Patience is all and all with her now. Patienceis all very well, but if they throw me over--"

  "My dear Miss Gresham, Patience is and always was a virtue."

  "A poor, beggarly, sneaking virtue after all, doctor. They shouldhave come up, seeing how deserted I am here. There's absolutelynobody left."

  "Has Lady de Courcy gone?"

  "Oh, yes! All the de Courcys have gone. I think, between ourselves,Mary stays away because she does not love them too well. They haveall gone, and taken Augusta and Frank with them."

  "Has Frank gone to Courcy Castle?"

  "Oh, yes; did you not hear? There was rather a fight about it. MasterFrank wanted to get off, and was as hard to catch as an eel, and thenthe countess was offended; and papa said he didn't see why Frank wasto go if he didn't like it. Papa is very anxious about his degree,you know."

  The doctor understood it all as well as though it had been describedto him at full length. The countess had claimed her prey, in orderthat she might carry him off to Miss Dunstable's golden embrace. Theprey, not yet old enough and wise enough to connect the worship ofPlutus with that of Venus, had made sundry futile feints and dodgesin the vain hope of escape. Then the anxious mother had enforced thede Courcy behests with all a mother's authority. But the father,whose ideas on the subject of Miss Dunstable's wealth had probablynot been consulted, had, as a matter of course, taken exactly theother side of the question. The doctor did not require to be told allthis in order to know how the battle had raged. He had not yet heardof the great Dunstable scheme; but he was sufficiently acquaintedwith Greshamsbury tactics to understand that the war had been carriedon somewhat after this fashion.

  As a rule, when the squire took a point warmly to heart, he waswont to carry his way against the de Courcy interest. He could beobstinate enough when it so pleased him, and had before now gone sofar as to tell his wife, that her thrice-noble sister-in-law mightremain at home at Courcy Castle--or, at any rate, not come toGreshamsbury--if she could not do so without striving to rule him andevery one else when she got here. This had of course been repeated tothe countess, who had merely replied to it by a sisterly whisper, inwhich she sorrowfully intimated that some men were born brutes, andalways would remain so.

  "I think they all are," the Lady Arabella had replied; wishing,perhaps, to remind her sister-in-law that the breed of brutes was asrampant in West Barsetshire as in the eastern division of the county.

  The squire, however, had not fought on this occasion with all hisvigour. There had, of course, been some passages between him and hisson, and it had been agreed that Frank should go for a fortnight toCourcy Castle.

  "We mustn't quarrel with them, you know, if we can help it," said thefather; "and, therefore, you must go sooner or later."

  "Well, I suppose so; but you don't know how dull it is, governor."

  "Don't I!" said Gresham.

  "There's a Miss Dunstable to be there; did you ever hear of her,sir?"

  "No, never."

  "She's a girl whose father used to make ointment, or something ofthat sort."

  "Oh, yes, to be sure; the ointment of Lebanon. He used to cover allthe walls in London. I haven't heard of him this year past."

  "No; that's because he's dead. Well, she carries on the ointment now,I believe; at any rate, she has got all the money. I wonder whatshe's like."

  "You'd better go and see," said the father, who now began to havesome inkling of an idea why the two ladies were so anxious to carryhis son off to Courcy Castle at this exact time. And so Frank hadpacked up his best clothes, given a last fond look at the new blackhorse, repeated his last special injunctions to Peter, and had thenmade one of the stately _cortege_ which proceeded through the countyfrom Greshamsbury to Courcy Castle.

  "I am very glad of that, very," said the squire, when he heard thatthe money was to be forthcoming. "I shall get it on easier terms fromhim than elsewhere; and it kills me to have continual bother aboutsuch things." And Mr Gresham, feeling that that difficulty was tidedover for a time, and that the immediate pressure of little debtswould be abated, stretched himself on his easy chair as though hewere quite comfortable;--one may say almost elated.

  How frequent it is that men on their road to ruin feel elation suchas this! A man signs away a moiety of his substance; nay, that werenothing; but a moiety of the substance of his children; he putshis pen to the paper that ruins him and them; but in doing so hefrees himself from a score of immediate little pestering, stingingtroubles: and, therefore, feels as though fortune has been almostkind to him.

  The doctor felt angry with himself for what he had done when he sawhow easily the squire adapted himself to this new loan. "It will makeScatcherd's claim upon you very heavy," said he.

  Mr Gresham at once read all that was passing through the doctor'smind. "Well, what else can I do?" said he. "You wouldn't have meallow my daughter to lose this match for the sake of a few thousandpounds? It will be well at any rate to have one of them settled. Lookat that letter from Moffat."

  The doctor took the letter and read it. It was a long, wordy,ill-written rigmarole, in which that amorous gentleman spoke withmuch rapture of his love and devotion for Miss Gresham; but at thesame time declared, and most positively swore, that the adversecruelty of his circumstances was such, that it would not allow him tostand up like a man at the hymeneal altar until six thousand poundshard cash had been paid down at his banker's.

  "It may be all right," said the squire; "but in my time gentlemenwere not used to write such letters as that to each other."

  The doctor shrugged his shoulders. He did not know how far he wouldbe justified in saying much, even to his friend the squire, indispraise of his future son-in-law.

  "I told him that he should have the money; and one would have thoughtthat that would have been enough for him. Well: I suppose Augustalikes him. I suppose she wishes the match; otherwise, I would givehim such an answer to that letter as would startle him a little."

  "What settlement is he to make?" said Thorne.

  "Oh, that's satisfactory enough; couldn't be more so; a thousand ayear and the house at Wimbledon for her; that's all very well. Butsuch a lie, you know, Thorne. He's rolling in money, and yet he talksof this beggarly sum as though he couldn't possibly stir without it."

  "If I might venture to speak my mind," said Thorne.

  "Well?" said the squire, looking at him
earnestly.

  "I should be inclined to say that Mr Moffat wants to cry off,himself."

  "Oh, impossible; quite impossible. In the first place, he was so veryanxious for the match. In the next place, it is such a great thingfor him. And then, he would never dare; you see, he is dependent onthe de Courcys for his seat."

  "But suppose he loses his seat?"

  "But there is not much fear of that, I think. Scatcherd may be a veryfine fellow, but I think they'll hardly return him at Barchester."

  "I don't understand much about it," said Thorne; "but such things dohappen."

  "And you believe that this man absolutely wants to get off the match;absolutely thinks of playing such a trick as that on my daughter;--onme?"

  "I don't say he intends to do it; but it looks to me as though hewere making a door for himself, or trying to make a door: if so, yourhaving the money will stop him there."

  "But, Thorne, don't you think he loves the girl? If I thought not--"

  The doctor stood silent for a moment, and then he said, "I am not alove-making man myself, but I think that if I were much in love witha young lady I should not write such a letter as that to her father."

  "By heavens! If I thought so," said the squire--"but, Thorne, wecan't judge of those fellows as one does of gentlemen; they are soused to making money, and seeing money made, that they have an eye tobusiness in everything."

  "Perhaps so, perhaps so," muttered the doctor, showing evidently thathe still doubted the warmth of Mr Moffat's affection.

  "The match was none of my making, and I cannot interfere now to breakit off: it will give her a good position in the world; for, afterall, money goes a great way, and it is something to be in Parliament.I can only hope she likes him. I do truly hope she likes him;" andthe squire also showed by the tone of his voice that, though he mighthope that his daughter was in love with her intended husband, hehardly conceived it to be possible that she should be so.

  And what was the truth of the matter? Miss Gresham was no more inlove with Mr Moffat than you are--oh, sweet, young, blooming beauty!Not a whit more; not, at least, in your sense of the word, nor inmine. She had by no means resolved within her heart that of all themen whom she had ever seen, or ever could see, he was far away thenicest and best. That is what you will do when you are in love, ifyou be good for anything. She had no longing to sit near to him--thenearer the better; she had no thought of his taste and his choicewhen she bought her ribbons and bonnets; she had no indescribabledesire that all her female friends should be ever talking to herabout him. When she wrote to him, she did not copy her letters againand again, so that she might be, as it were, ever speaking to him;she took no special pride in herself because he had chosen her tobe his life's partner. In point of fact, she did not care one strawabout him.

  And yet she thought she loved him; was, indeed, quite confidentthat she did so; told her mother that she was sure Gustavus wouldwish this, she knew Gustavus would like that, and so on but as forGustavus himself, she did not care a chip for him.

  She was in love with her match just as farmers are in love withwheat at eighty shillings a quarter; or shareholders--innocentgudgeons--with seven and half per cent. interest on their paid-upcapital. Eighty shillings a quarter, and seven and half per cent.interest, such were the returns which she had been taught to lookfor in exchange for her young heart; and, having obtained them, orbeing thus about to obtain them, why should not her young heart besatisfied? Had she not sat herself down obediently at the feet of herlady Gamaliel, and should she not be rewarded? Yes, indeed, she shallbe rewarded.

  And then the doctor went to the lady. On their medical secrets wewill not intrude; but there were other matters bearing on the courseof our narrative, as to which Lady Arabella found it necessary to saya word or so to the doctor; and it is essential that we should knowwhat was the tenor of those few words so spoken.

  How the aspirations, and instincts, and feelings of a householdbecome changed as the young birds begin to flutter with featheredwings, and have half-formed thoughts of leaving the parental nest! Afew months back, Frank had reigned almost autocratic over the lessersubjects of the kingdom of Greshamsbury. The servants, for instance,always obeyed him, and his sisters never dreamed of telling anythingwhich he directed should not be told. All his mischief, all histroubles, and all his loves were confided to them, with the sureconviction that they would never be made to stand in evidence againsthim.

  Trusting to this well-ascertained state of things, he had nothesitated to declare his love for Miss Thorne before his sisterAugusta. But his sister Augusta had now, as it were, been receivedinto the upper house; having duly received, and duly profited by thelessons of her great instructress, she was now admitted to sit inconclave with the higher powers: her sympathies, of course, becamechanged, and her confidence was removed from the young and giddyand given to the ancient and discreet. She was as a schoolboy, who,having finished his schooling, and being fairly forced by necessityinto the stern bread-earning world, undertakes the new duties oftutoring. Yesterday he was taught, and fought, of course, against theschoolmaster; to-day he teaches, and fights as keenly for him. Soit was with Augusta Gresham, when, with careful brow, she whisperedto her mother that there was something wrong between Frank and MaryThorne.

  "Stop it at once, Arabella: stop it at once," the countess had said;"that, indeed, will be ruin. If he does not marry money, he is lost.Good heavens! the doctor's niece! A girl that nobody knows where shecomes from!"

  "He's going with you to-morrow, you know," said the anxious mother.

  "Yes; and that is so far well: if he will be led by me, the evilmay be remedied before he returns; but it is very, very hard tolead young men. Arabella, you must forbid that girl to come toGreshamsbury again on any pretext whatever. The evil must be stoppedat once."

  "But she is here so much as a matter of course."

  "Then she must be here as a matter of course no more: there has beenfolly, very great folly, in having her here. Of course she would turnout to be a designing creature with such temptation before her; withsuch a prize within her reach, how could she help it?"

  "I must say, aunt, she answered him very properly," said Augusta.

  "Nonsense," said the countess; "before you, of course she did.Arabella, the matter must not be left to the girl's propriety. Inever knew the propriety of a girl of that sort to be fit to bedepended upon yet. If you wish to save the whole family from ruin,you must take steps to keep her away from Greshamsbury now at once.Now is the time; now that Frank is to be away. Where so much, so verymuch depends on a young man's marrying money, not one day ought to belost."

  Instigated in this manner, Lady Arabella resolved to open her mindto the doctor, and to make it intelligible to him that, underpresent circumstances, Mary's visits at Greshamsbury had better bediscontinued. She would have given much, however, to have escapedthis business. She had in her time tried one or two falls with thedoctor, and she was conscious that she had never yet got the betterof him: and then she was in a slight degree afraid of Mary herself.She had a presentiment that it would not be so easy to banish Maryfrom Greshamsbury: she was not sure that that young lady would notboldly assert her right to her place in the school-room; appealloudly to the squire, and perhaps, declare her determination ofmarrying the heir, out before them all. The squire would be sure touphold her in that, or in anything else.

  And then, too, there would be the greatest difficulty in wording herrequest to the doctor; and Lady Arabella was sufficiently consciousof her own weakness to know that she was not always very good atwords. But the doctor, when hard pressed, was never at fault: hecould say the bitterest things in the quietest tone, and LadyArabella had a great dread of these bitter things. What, also, if heshould desert her himself; withdraw from her his skill and knowledgeof her bodily wants and ailments now that he was so necessary to her?She had once before taken that measure of sending to Barchester forDr Fillgrave, but it had answered with her hardly better than withSir Roger and Lady
Scatcherd.

  When, therefore, Lady Arabella found herself alone with the doctor,and called upon to say out her say in what best language she couldselect for the occasion, she did not feel to be very much at her ease.There was that about the man before her which cowed her, in spite ofher being the wife of the squire, the sister of an earl, a personquite acknowledged to be of the great world, and the mother of thevery important young man whose affections were now about to be calledin question. Nevertheless, there was the task to be done, and with amother's courage she essayed it.

  "Dr Thorne," said she, as soon as their medical conference was atan end, "I am very glad you came over to-day, for I had somethingspecial which I wanted to say to you:" so far she got, and thenstopped; but, as the doctor did not seem inclined to give her anyassistance, she was forced to flounder on as best she could.

  "Something very particular indeed. You know what a respect andesteem, and I may say affection, we all have for you,"--here thedoctor made a low bow--"and I may say for Mary also;" here thedoctor bowed himself again. "We have done what little we could to bepleasant neighbours, and I think you'll believe me when I say that Iam a true friend to you and dear Mary--"

  The doctor knew that something very unpleasant was coming, but hecould not at all guess what might be its nature. He felt, however,that he must say something; so he expressed a hope that he was dulysensible of all the acts of kindness he had ever received from thesquire and the family at large.

  "I hope, therefore, my dear doctor, you won't take amiss what I amgoing to say."

  "Well, Lady Arabella, I'll endeavour not to do so."

  "I am sure I would not give any pain if I could help it, much lessto you. But there are occasions, doctor, in which duty must beparamount; paramount to all other considerations, you know, and,certainly, this occasion is one of them."

  "But what is the occasion, Lady Arabella?"

  "I'll tell you, doctor. You know what Frank's position is?"

  "Frank's position! as regards what?"

  "Why, his position in life; an only son, you know."

  "Oh, yes; I know his position in that respect; an only son, and hisfather's heir; and a very fine fellow, he is. You have but one son,Lady Arabella, and you may well be proud of him."

  Lady Arabella sighed. She did not wish at the present moment toexpress herself as being in any way proud of Frank. She was desirousrather, on the other hand, of showing that she was a good dealashamed of him; only not quite so much ashamed of him as it behovedthe doctor to be of his niece.

  "Well, perhaps so; yes," said Lady Arabella, "he is, I believe, avery good young man, with an excellent disposition but, doctor, hisposition is very precarious; and he is just at that time of life whenevery caution is necessary."

  To the doctor's ears, Lady Arabella was now talking of her son as amother might of her infant when whooping-cough was abroad or croupimminent. "There is nothing on earth the matter with him, I shouldsay," said the doctor. "He has every possible sign of perfecthealth."

  "Oh yes; his health! Yes, thank God, his health is good; that is agreat blessing." And Lady Arabella thought of her four flowerets thathad already faded. "I am sure I am most thankful to see him growingup so strong. But it is not that I mean, doctor."

  "Then what is it, Lady Arabella?"

  "Why, doctor, you know the squire's position with regard to moneymatters?"

  Now the doctor undoubtedly did know the squire's position with regardto money matters,--knew it much better than did Lady Arabella; buthe was by no means inclined to talk on that subject to her ladyship.He remained quite silent, therefore, although Lady Arabella's lastspeech had taken the form of a question. Lady Arabella was a littleoffended at this want of freedom on his part, and become somewhatsterner in her tone--a thought less condescending in her manner.

  "The squire has unfortunately embarrassed the property, and Frankmust look forward to inherit it with very heavy encumbrances; Ifear very heavy indeed, though of what exact nature I am kept inignorance."

  Looking at the doctor's face, she perceived that there was noprobability whatever that her ignorance would be enlightened by him.

  "And, therefore, it is highly necessary that Frank should be verycareful."

  "As to his private expenditure, you mean?" said the doctor.

  "No; not exactly that: though of course he must be careful as tothat, too; that's of course. But that is not what I mean, doctor; hisonly hope of retrieving his circumstances is by marrying money."

  "With every other conjugal blessing that a man can have, I hope hemay have that also." So the doctor replied with imperturbable face;but not the less did he begin to have a shade of suspicion of whatmight be the coming subject of the conference. It would be untrue tosay that he had ever thought it probable that the young heir shouldfall in love with his niece; that he had ever looked forward to sucha chance, either with complacency or with fear; nevertheless, theidea had of late passed through his mind. Some word had fallen fromMary, some closely watched expression of her eye, or some quiverin her lip when Frank's name was mentioned, had of late made himinvoluntarily think that such might not be impossible; and then, whenthe chance of Mary becoming the heiress to so large a fortune hadbeen forced upon his consideration, he had been unable to preventhimself from building happy castles in the air, as he rode slowlyhome from Boxall Hill. But not a whit the more on that account washe prepared to be untrue to the squire's interest or to encourage afeeling which must be distasteful to all the squire's friends.

  "Yes, doctor; he must marry money."

  "And worth, Lady Arabella; and a pure feminine heart; and youth andbeauty. I hope he will marry them all."

  Could it be possible, that in speaking of a pure feminine heart, andyouth and beauty, and such like gewgaws, the doctor was thinking ofhis niece? Could it be that he had absolutely made up his mind tofoster and encourage this odious match?

  The bare idea made Lady Arabella wrathful, and her wrath gave hercourage. "He must marry money, or he will be a ruined man. Now,doctor, I am informed that things--words that is--have passed betweenhim and Mary which never ought to have been allowed."

  And now also the doctor was wrathful. "What things? what words?" saidhe, appearing to Lady Arabella as though he rose in his anger nearlya foot in altitude before her eyes. "What has passed between them?and who says so?"

  "Doctor, there have been love-makings, you may take my word for it;love-makings of a very, very, very advanced description."

  This, the doctor could not stand. No, not for Greshamsbury and itsheir; not for the squire and all his misfortunes; not for LadyArabella and the blood of all the de Courcys could he stand quietand hear Mary thus accused. He sprang up another foot in height, andexpanded equally in width as he flung back the insinuation.

  "Who says so? Whoever says so, whoever speaks of Miss Thorne in suchlanguage, says what is not true. I will pledge my word--"

  "My dear doctor, my dear doctor, what took place was quite clearlyheard; there was no mistake about it, indeed."

  "What took place? What was heard?"

  "Well, then, I don't want, you know, to make more of it than can behelped. The thing must be stopped, that is all."

  "What thing? Speak out, Lady Arabella. I will not have Mary's conductimpugned by innuendoes. What is it that eavesdroppers have heard?"

  "Dr Thorne, there have been no eavesdroppers."

  "And no talebearers either? Will your ladyship oblige me by letting meknow what is the accusation which you bring against my niece?"

  "There has been most positively an offer made, Dr Thorne."

  "And who made it?"

  "Oh, of course I am not going to say but what Frank must have beenvery imprudent. Of course he has been to blame. There has been faulton both sides, no doubt."

  "I utterly deny it. I positively deny it. I know nothing of thecircumstances; have heard nothing about it--"

  "Then of course you can't say," said Lady Arabella.

  "I know nothing of the circ
umstance; have heard nothing about it,"continued Dr Thorne; "but I do know my niece, and am ready to assertthat there has not been fault on both sides. Whether there has beenany fault on any side, that I do not yet know."

  "I can assure you, Dr Thorne, that an offer was made by Frank;such an offer cannot be without its allurements to a young ladycircumstanced like your niece."

  "Allurements!" almost shouted the doctor, and, as he did so, LadyArabella stepped back a pace or two, retreating from the fire whichshot out of his eyes. "But the truth is, Lady Arabella, you do notknow my niece. If you will have the goodness to let me understandwhat it is that you desire I will tell you whether I can comply withyour wishes."

  "Of course it will be very inexpedient that the young people shouldbe thrown together again;--for the present, I mean."

  "Well!"

  "Frank has now gone to Courcy Castle; and he talks of going fromthence to Cambridge. But he will doubtless be here, backwards andforwards; and perhaps it will be better for all parties--safer,that is, doctor--if Miss Thorne were to discontinue her visits toGreshamsbury for a while."

  "Very well!" thundered out the doctor. "Her visits to Greshamsburyshall be discontinued."

  "Of course, doctor, this won't change the intercourse between us;between you and the family."

  "Not change it!" said he. "Do you think that I will break bread in ahouse from whence she has been ignominiously banished? Do you thinkthat I can sit down in friendship with those who have spoken of heras you have now spoken? You have many daughters; what would you sayif I accused one of them as you have accused her?"

  "Accused, doctor! No, I don't accuse her. But prudence, you know,does sometimes require us--"

  "Very well; prudence requires you to look after those who belongto you; and prudence requires me to look after my one lamb. Goodmorning, Lady Arabella."

  "But, doctor, you are not going to quarrel with us? You will comewhen we want you; eh! won't you?"

  Quarrel! quarrel with Greshamsbury! Angry as he was, the doctor feltthat he could ill bear to quarrel with Greshamsbury. A man past fiftycannot easily throw over the ties that have taken twenty years toform, and wrench himself away from the various close ligatures withwhich, in such a period, he has become bound. He could not quarrelwith the squire; he could ill bear to quarrel with Frank; though henow began to conceive that Frank had used him badly, he could not doso; he could not quarrel with the children, who had almost been borninto his arms; nor even with the very walls, and trees, and grassyknolls with which he was so dearly intimate. He could not proclaimhimself an enemy to Greshamsbury; and yet he felt that fealty to Maryrequired of him that, for the present, he should put on an enemy'sguise.

  "If you want me, Lady Arabella, and send for me, I will come to you;otherwise I will, if you please, share the sentence which has beenpassed on Mary. I will now wish you good morning." And then bowinglow to her, he left the room and the house, and sauntered slowly awayto his own home.

  What was he to say to Mary? He walked very slowly down theGreshamsbury avenue, with his hands clasped behind his back, thinkingover the whole matter; thinking of it, or rather trying to thinkof it. When a man's heart is warmly concerned in any matter, itis almost useless for him to endeavour to think of it. Instead ofthinking, he gives play to his feelings, and feeds his passion byindulging it. "Allurements!" he said to himself, repeating LadyArabella's words. "A girl circumstanced like my niece! How utterlyincapable is such a woman as that to understand the mind, and heart,and soul of such a one as Mary Thorne!" And then his thoughtsrecurred to Frank. "It has been ill done of him; ill done of him:young as he is, he should have had feeling enough to have spared methis. A thoughtless word has been spoken which will now make hermiserable!" And then, as he walked on, he could not divest his mindof the remembrance of what had passed between him and Sir Roger.What, if after all, Mary should become the heiress to all that money?What, if she should become, in fact, the owner of Greshamsbury? for,indeed it seemed too possible that Sir Roger's heir would be theowner of Greshamsbury.

  The idea was one which he disliked to entertain, but it would recurto him again and again. It might be, that a marriage between hisniece and the nominal heir to the estate might be of all the matchesthe best for young Gresham to make. How sweet would be the revenge,how glorious the retaliation on Lady Arabella, if, after what hadnow been said, it should come to pass that all the difficulties ofGreshamsbury should be made smooth by Mary's love, and Mary's hand!It was a dangerous subject on which to ponder; and, as he sauntereddown the road, the doctor did his best to banish it from hismind,--not altogether successfully.

  But as he went he again encountered Beatrice. "Tell Mary I went toher to-day," said she, "and that I expect her up here to-morrow. Ifshe does not come, I shall be savage."

  "Do not be savage," said he, putting out his hand, "even though sheshould not come."

  Beatrice immediately saw that his manner with her was not playful,and that his face was serious. "I was only in joke," said she; "ofcourse I was only joking. But is anything the matter? Is Mary ill?"

  "Oh, no; not ill at all; but she will not be here to-morrow, norprobably for some time. But, Miss Gresham, you must not be savagewith her."

  Beatrice tried to interrogate him, but he would not wait to answerher questions. While she was speaking he bowed to her in his usualold-fashioned courteous way, and passed on out of hearing. "She willnot come up for some time," said Beatrice to herself. "Then mammamust have quarrelled with her." And at once in her heart sheacquitted her friend of all blame in the matter, whatever it mightbe, and condemned her mother unheard.

  The doctor, when he arrived at his own house, had in nowise madeup his mind as to the manner in which he would break the matter toMary; but by the time that he had reached the drawing-room, he hadmade up his mind to this, that he would put off the evil hour tillthe morrow. He would sleep on the matter--lie awake on it, moreprobably--and then at breakfast, as best he could, tell her what hadbeen said of her.

  Mary that evening was more than usually inclined to be playful.She had not been quite certain till the morning, whether Frank hadabsolutely left Greshamsbury, and had, therefore, preferred thecompany of Miss Oriel to going up to the house. There was a peculiarcheerfulness about her friend Patience, a feeling of satisfactionwith the world and those in it, which Mary always shared with her;and now she had brought home to the doctor's fireside, in spite ofher young troubles, a smiling face, if not a heart altogether happy.

  "Uncle," she said at last, "what makes you so sombre? Shall I read toyou?"

  "No; not to-night, dearest."

  "Why, uncle; what is the matter?"

  "Nothing, nothing."

  "Ah, but it is something, and you shall tell me;" getting up, shecame over to his arm-chair, and leant over his shoulder.

  He looked at her for a minute in silence, and then, getting up fromhis chair, passed his arm round her waist, and pressed her closely tohis heart.

  "My darling!" he said, almost convulsively. "My best own, truestdarling!" and Mary, looking up into his face, saw that big tears wererunning down his cheeks.

  But still he told her nothing that night.