Doctor Thorne

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XXVI

  War

  We need not follow Sir Roger to his grave, nor partake of the bakedmeats which were furnished for his funeral banquet. Such men as SirRoger Scatcherd are always well buried, and we have already seen thathis glories were duly told to posterity in the graphic diction of hissepulchral monument. In a few days the doctor had returned to hisquiet home, and Sir Louis found himself reigning at Boxall Hill inhis father's stead--with, however, a much diminished sway, and, as hethought it, but a poor exchequer. We must soon return to him and saysomething of his career as a baronet; but for the present, we may goback to our more pleasant friends at Greshamsbury.

  But our friends at Greshamsbury had not been making themselvespleasant--not so pleasant to each other as circumstances would haveadmitted. In those days which the doctor had felt himself bound topass, if not altogether at Boxall Hill, yet altogether away from hisown home, so as to admit of his being as much as possible with hispatient, Mary had been thrown more than ever with Patience Oriel,and, also, almost more than ever with Beatrice Gresham. As regardedMary, she would doubtless have preferred the companionship ofPatience, though she loved Beatrice far the best; but she had nochoice. When she went to the parsonage Beatrice came there also, andwhen Patience came to the doctor's house Beatrice either accompaniedor followed her. Mary could hardly have rejected their society, evenhad she felt it wise to do so. She would in such case have been allalone, and her severance from the Greshamsbury house and household,from the big family in which she had for so many years been almost athome, would have made such solitude almost unendurable.

  And then these two girls both knew--not her secret: she had nosecret--but the little history of her ill-treatment. They knew thatthough she had been blameless in this matter, yet she had been theone to bear the punishment; and, as girls and bosom friends, theycould not but sympathise with her, and endow her with heroicattributes; make her, in fact, as we are doing, their little heroinefor the nonce. This was, perhaps, not serviceable for Mary; but itwas far from being disagreeable.

  The tendency to finding matter for hero-worship in Mary's endurancewas much stronger with Beatrice than with Miss Oriel. Miss Oriel wasthe elder, and naturally less afflicted with the sentimentation ofromance. She had thrown herself into Mary's arms because she hadseen that it was essentially necessary for Mary's comfort that sheshould do so. She was anxious to make her friend smile, and to smilewith her. Beatrice was quite as true in her sympathy; but she ratherwished that she and Mary might weep in unison, shed mutual tears, andbreak their hearts together.

  Patience had spoken of Frank's love as a misfortune, of his conductas erroneous, and to be excused only by his youth, and had neverappeared to surmise that Mary also might be in love as well as he.But to Beatrice the affair was a tragic difficulty, admitting of nosolution a Gordian knot, not to be cut; a misery now and for ever.She would always talk about Frank when she and Mary were alone; and,to speak the truth, Mary did not stop her as she perhaps should havedone. As for a marriage between them, that was impossible; Beatricewas well sure of that: it was Frank's unfortunate destiny that hemust marry money--money, and, as Beatrice sometimes thoughtlesslyadded, cutting Mary to the quick,--money and family also. Under suchcircumstances a marriage between them was quite impossible; but notthe less did Beatrice declare, that she would have loved Mary as hersister-in-law had it been possible; and how worthy Frank was of agirl's love, had such love been permissible.

  "It is so cruel," Beatrice would say; "so very, very, cruel. Youwould have suited him in every way."

  "Nonsense, Trichy; I should have suited him in no possible way atall; nor he me."

  "Oh, but you would--exactly. Papa loves you so well."

  "And mamma; that would have been so nice."

  "Yes; and mamma, too--that is, had you had a fortune," said thedaughter, naively. "She always liked you personally, always."

  "Did she?"

  "Always. And we all love you so."

  "Especially Lady Alexandrina."

  "That would not have signified, for Frank cannot endure the deCourcys himself."

  "My dear, it does not matter one straw whom your brother can endureor not endure just at present. His character is to be formed, and histastes, and his heart also."

  "Oh, Mary!--his heart."

  "Yes, his heart; not the fact of his having a heart. I think he has aheart; but he himself does not yet understand it."

  "Oh, Mary! you do not know him."

  Such conversations were not without danger to poor Mary's comfort.It came soon to be the case that she looked rather for this sortof sympathy from Beatrice, than for Miss Oriel's pleasant but lesspiquant gaiety.

  So the days of the doctor's absence were passed, and so also thefirst week after his return. During this week it was almost dailynecessary that the squire should be with him. The doctor was now thelegal holder of Sir Roger's property, and, as such, the holder alsoof all the mortgages on Mr Gresham's property; and it was naturalthat they should be much together. The doctor would not, however,go up to Greshamsbury on any other than medical business; and ittherefore became necessary that the squire should be a good deal atthe doctor's house.

  Then the Lady Arabella became unhappy in her mind. Frank, it wastrue, was away at Cambridge, and had been successfully kept outof Mary's way since the suspicion of danger had fallen upon LadyArabella's mind. Frank was away, and Mary was systematicallybanished, with due acknowledgement from all the powers inGreshamsbury. But this was not enough for Lady Arabella as long asher daughter still habitually consorted with the female culprit, andas long as her husband consorted with the male culprit. It seemed toLady Arabella at this moment as though, in banishing Mary from thehouse, she had in effect banished herself from the most intimate ofthe Greshamsbury social circles. She magnified in her own mind theimportance of the conferences between the girls, and was not withoutsome fear that the doctor might be talking the squire over into verydangerous compliance.

  She resolved, therefore, on another duel with the doctor. In thefirst she had been pre-eminently and unexpectedly successful. Noyoung sucking dove could have been more mild than that terrible enemywhom she had for years regarded as being too puissant for attack. Inten minutes she had vanquished him, and succeeded in banishing bothhim and his niece from the house without losing the value of hisservices. As is always the case with us, she had begun to despisethe enemy she had conquered, and to think that the foe, once beaten,could never rally.

  Her object was to break off all confidential intercourse betweenBeatrice and Mary, and to interrupt, as far as she could do it, thatbetween the doctor and the squire. This, it may be said, could bemore easily done by skilful management within her own household. Shehad, however, tried that and failed. She had said much to Beatrice asto the imprudence of her friendship with Mary, and she had done thispurposely before the squire; injudiciously however,--for the squirehad immediately taken Mary's part, and had declared that he had nowish to see a quarrel between his family and that of the doctor; thatMary Thorne was in every way a good girl, and an eligible friend forhis own child; and had ended by declaring, that he would not haveMary persecuted for Frank's fault. This had not been the end, nornearly the end of what had been said on the matter at Greshamsbury;but the end, when it came, came in this wise, that Lady Arabelladetermined to say a few words to the doctor as to the expediencyof forbidding familiar intercourse between Mary and any of theGreshamsbury people.

  With this view Lady Arabella absolutely bearded the lion in his den,the doctor in his shop. She had heard that both Mary and Beatricewere to pass a certain afternoon at the parsonage, and took thatopportunity of calling at the doctor's house. A period of many yearshad passed since she had last so honoured that abode. Mary, indeed,had been so much one of her own family that the ceremony of callingon her had never been thought necessary; and thus, unless Mary hadbeen absolutely ill, there would have been nothing to bring herladyship to the house. All this she knew would add to the importanceo
f the occasion, and she judged it prudent to make the occasion asimportant as it might well be.

  She was so far successful that she soon found herself _tete-a-tete_with the doctor in his own study. She was no whit dismayed by thepair of human thigh-bones which lay close to his hand, and which,when he was talking in that den of his own, he was in the constanthabit of handling with much energy; nor was she frightened out of herpropriety even by the little child's skull which grinned at her fromoff the chimney-piece.

  "Doctor," she said, as soon as the first complimentary greetings wereover, speaking in her kindest and most would-be-confidential tone,"Doctor, I am still uneasy about that boy of mine, and I have thoughtit best to come and see you at once, and tell you freely what Ithink."

  The doctor bowed, and said that he was very sorry that she shouldhave any cause for uneasiness about his young friend Frank.

  "Indeed, I am very uneasy, doctor; and having, as I do have, suchreliance on your prudence, and such perfect confidence in yourfriendship, I have thought it best to come and speak to you openly:"thereupon the Lady Arabella paused, and the doctor bowed again.

  "Nobody knows so well as you do the dreadful state of the squire'saffairs."

  "Not so very dreadful; not so very dreadful," said the doctor,mildly: "that is, as far as I know."

  "Yes they are, doctor; very dreadful; very dreadful indeed. You knowhow much he owes to this young man: I do not, for the squire nevertells anything to me; but I know that it is a very large sum ofmoney; enough to swamp the estate and ruin Frank. Now I call thatvery dreadful."

  "No, no, not ruin him, Lady Arabella; not ruin him, I hope."

  "However, I did not come to talk to you about that. As I said before,I know nothing of the squire's affairs, and, as a matter of course,I do not ask you to tell me. But I am sure you will agree with me inthis, that, as a mother, I cannot but be interested about my onlyson," and Lady Arabella put her cambric handkerchief to her eyes.

  "Of course you are; of course you are," said the doctor; "and, LadyArabella, my opinion of Frank is such, that I feel sure that hewill do well;" and, in his energy, Dr Thorne brandished one of thethigh-bones almost in the lady's face.

  "I hope he will; I am sure I hope he will. But, doctor, he has suchdangers to contend with; he is so warm and impulsive that I fearhis heart will bring him into trouble. Now, you know, unless Frankmarries money he is lost."

  The doctor made no answer to this last appeal, but as he sat andlistened a slight frown came across his brow.

  "He must marry money, doctor. Now we have, you see, with yourassistance, contrived to separate him from dear Mary--"

  "With my assistance, Lady Arabella! I have given no assistance, norhave I meddled in the matter; nor will I."

  "Well, doctor, perhaps not meddled; but you agreed with me, you know,that the two young people had been imprudent."

  "I agreed to no such thing, Lady Arabella; never, never. I not onlynever agreed that Mary had been imprudent, but I will not agree to itnow, and will not allow any one to assert it in my presence withoutcontradicting it:" and then the doctor worked away at the thigh-bonesin a manner that did rather alarm her ladyship.

  "At any rate, you thought that the young people had better be keptapart."

  "No; neither did I think that: my niece, I felt sure, was safe fromdanger. I knew that she would do nothing that would bring either heror me to shame."

  "Not to shame," said the lady, apologetically, as it were, using theword perhaps not exactly in the doctor's sense.

  "I felt no alarm for her," continued the doctor, "and desired nochange. Frank is your son, and it is for you to look to him. Youthought proper to do so by desiring Mary to absent herself fromGreshamsbury."

  "Oh, no, no, no!" said Lady Arabella.

  "But you did, Lady Arabella; and as Greshamsbury is your home,neither I nor my niece had any ground of complaint. We acquiesced,not without much suffering, but we did acquiesce; and you, I think,can have no ground of complaint against us."

  Lady Arabella had hardly expected that the doctor would reply to hermild and conciliatory exordium with so much sternness. He had yieldedso easily to her on the former occasion. She did not comprehend thatwhen she uttered her sentence of exile against Mary, she had givenan order which she had the power of enforcing; but that obedience tothat order had now placed Mary altogether beyond her jurisdiction.She was, therefore, a little surprised, and for a few momentsoverawed by the doctor's manner; but she soon recovered herself,remembering, doubtless, that fortune favours none but the brave.

  "I make no complaint, Dr Thorne," she said, after assuming a tonemore befitting a de Courcy than that hitherto used, "I make nocomplaint either as regards you or Mary."

  "You are very kind, Lady Arabella."

  "But I think that it is my duty to put a stop, a peremptory stop toanything like a love affair between my son and your niece."

  "I have not the least objection in life. If there is such a loveaffair, put a stop to it--that is, if you have the power."

  Here the doctor was doubtless imprudent. But he had begun to thinkthat he had yielded sufficiently to the lady; and he had begun toresolve, also, that though it would not become him to encourage eventhe idea of such a marriage, he would make Lady Arabella understandthat he thought his niece quite good enough for her son, and thatthe match, if regarded as imprudent, was to be regarded as equallyimprudent on both sides. He would not suffer that Mary and her heartand feelings and interest should be altogether postponed to thoseof the young heir; and, perhaps, he was unconsciously encouraged inthis determination by the reflection that Mary herself might perhapsbecome a young heiress.

  "It is my duty," said Lady Arabella, repeating her words with even astronger de Courcy intonation "and your duty also, Dr Thorne."

  "My duty!" said he, rising from his chair and leaning on the tablewith the two thigh-bones. "Lady Arabella, pray understand at once,that I repudiate any such duty, and will have nothing whatever to dowith it."

  "But you do not mean to say that you will encourage this unfortunateboy to marry your niece?"

  "The unfortunate boy, Lady Arabella--whom, by the by, I regard asa very fortunate young man--is your son, not mine. I shall take nosteps about his marriage, either one way or the other."

  "You think it right, then, that your niece should throw herself inhis way?"

  "Throw herself in his way! What would you say if I came up toGreshamsbury, and spoke to you of your daughters in such language?What would my dear friend Mr Gresham say, if some neighbour's wifeshould come and so speak to him? I will tell you what he would say:he would quietly beg her to go back to her own home and meddle onlywith her own matters."

  This was dreadful to Lady Arabella. Even Dr Thorne had never beforedared thus to lower her to the level of common humanity, and likenher to any other wife in the country-side. Moreover, she was notquite sure whether he, the parish doctor, was not desiring her, theearl's daughter, to go home and mind her own business. On this firstpoint, however, there seemed to be no room for doubt, of which shegave herself the benefit.

  "It would not become me to argue with you, Dr Thorne," she said.

  "Not at least on this subject," said he.

  "I can only repeat that I mean nothing offensive to our dear Mary;for whom, I think I may say, I have always shown almost a mother'scare."

  "Neither am I, nor is Mary, ungrateful for the kindness she hasreceived at Greshamsbury."

  "But I must do my duty: my own children must be my firstconsideration."

  "Of course they must, Lady Arabella; that's of course."

  "And, therefore, I have called on you to say that I think it isimprudent that Beatrice and Mary should be so much together."

  The doctor had been standing during the latter part of thisconversation, but now he began to walk about, still holding the twobones like a pair of dumb-bells.

  "God bless my soul!" he said; "God bless my soul! Why, Lady Arabella,do you suspect your own daughter as well as your own
son? Do youthink that Beatrice is assisting Mary in preparing this wickedclandestine marriage? I tell you fairly, Lady Arabella, the presenttone of your mind is such that I cannot understand it."

  "I suspect nobody, Dr Thorne; but young people will be young."

  "And old people must be old, I suppose; the more's the pity. LadyArabella, Mary is the same to me as my own daughter, and owes me theobedience of a child; but as I do not disapprove of your daughterBeatrice as an acquaintance for her, but rather, on the other hand,regard with pleasure their friendship, you cannot expect that Ishould take any steps to put an end to it."

  "But suppose it should lead to renewed intercourse between Frank andMary?"

  "I have no objection. Frank is a very nice young fellow,gentleman-like in his manners, and neighbourly in his disposition."

  "Dr Thorne--"

  "Lady Arabella--"

  "I cannot believe that you really intend to express a wish--"

  "You are quite right. I have not intended to express any wish; nor doI intend to do so. Mary is at liberty, within certain bounds--whichI am sure she will not pass--to choose her own friends. I think shehas not chosen badly as regards Miss Beatrice Gresham; and should sheeven add Frank Gresham to the number--"

  "Friends! why they were more than friends; they were declaredlovers."

  "I doubt that, Lady Arabella, because I have not heard of it fromMary. But even if it were so, I do not see why I should object."

  "Not object!"

  "As I said before, Frank is, to my thinking, an excellent young man.Why should I object?"

  "Dr Thorne!" said her ladyship, now also rising from her chair in astate of too evident perturbation.

  "Why should _I_ object? It is for you, Lady Arabella, to look afteryour lambs; for me to see that, if possible, no harm shall come tomine. If you think that Mary is an improper acquaintance for yourchildren, it is for you to guide them; for you and their father. Saywhat you think fit to your own daughter; but pray understand, oncefor all, that I will allow no one to interfere with my niece."

  "Interfere!" said Lady Arabella, now absolutely confused by theseverity of the doctor's manner.

  "I will allow no one to interfere with her; no one, Lady Arabella.She has suffered very greatly from imputations which you have mostunjustly thrown on her. It was, however, your undoubted right to turnher out of your house if you thought fit;--though, as a woman whohad known her for so many years, you might, I think, have treatedher with more forbearance. That, however, was your right, and youexercised it. There your privilege stops; yes, and must stop, LadyArabella. You shall not persecute her here, on the only spot ofground she can call her own."

  "Persecute her, Dr Thorne! You do not mean to say that I havepersecuted her?"

  "Ah! but I do mean to say so. You do persecute her, and wouldcontinue to do so did I not defend her. It is not sufficient thatshe is forbidden to enter your domain--and so forbidden with theknowledge of all the country round--but you must come here also withthe hope of interrupting all the innocent pleasures of her life.Fearing lest she should be allowed even to speak to your son, to heara word of him through his own sister, you would put her in prison,tie her up, keep her from the light of day--"

  "Dr Thorne! how can you--"

  But the doctor was not to be interrupted.

  "It never occurs to you to tie him up, to put him in prison. No; heis the heir of Greshamsbury; he is your son, an earl's grandson. Itis only natural, after all, that he should throw a few foolish wordsat the doctor's niece. But she! it is an offence not to be forgivenon her part that she should, however, unwillingly, have been forcedto listen to them! Now understand me, Lady Arabella; if any of yourfamily come to my house I shall be delighted to welcome them: if Maryshould meet any of them elsewhere I shall be delighted to hear of it.Should she tell me to-morrow that she was engaged to marry Frank, Ishould talk the matter over with her, quite coolly, solely with aview to her interest, as would be my duty; feeling, at the same time,that Frank would be lucky in having such a wife. Now you know mymind, Lady Arabella. It is so I should do my duty;--you can do yoursas you may think fit."

  Lady Arabella had by this time perceived that she was not destined onthis occasion to gain any great victory. She, however, was angry aswell as the doctor. It was not the man's vehemence that provoked herso much as his evident determination to break down the prestige ofher rank, and place her on a footing in no respect superior to hisown. He had never before been so audaciously arrogant; and, as shemoved towards the door, she determined in her wrath that she wouldnever again have confidential intercourse with him in any relation oflife whatsoever.

  "Dr Thorne," said she. "I think you have forgotten yourself. You mustexcuse me if I say that after what has passed I--I--I--"

  "Certainly," said he, fully understanding what she meant; and bowinglow as he opened first the study-door, then the front-door, then thegarden-gate.

  And then Lady Arabella stalked off, not without full observation fromMrs Yates Umbleby and her friend Miss Gushing, who lived close by.