Doctor Thorne

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XXXII

  Mr Oriel

  I must now, shortly--as shortly as it is in my power to doit--introduce a new character to my reader. Mention has been madeof the rectory of Greshamsbury; but, hitherto, no opportunity hasoffered itself for the Rev Caleb Oriel to come upon the boards.

  Mr Oriel was a man of family and fortune, who, having gone to Oxfordwith the usual views of such men, had become inoculated there withvery High-Church principles, and had gone into orders influenced by afeeling of enthusiastic love for the priesthood. He was by no meansan ascetic--such men, indeed, seldom are--nor was he a devotee. Hewas a man well able, and certainly willing, to do the work of aparish clergyman; and when he became one, he was efficacious in hisprofession. But it may perhaps be said of him, without speakingslanderously, that his original calling, as a young man, was ratherto the outward and visible signs of religion than to its inward andspiritual graces.

  He delighted in lecterns and credence-tables, in services at darkhours of winter mornings when no one would attend, in high waistcoatsand narrow white neckties, in chanted services and intoned prayers,and in all the paraphernalia of Anglican formalities which have givensuch offence to those of our brethren who live in daily fear of thescarlet lady. Many of his friends declared that Mr Oriel would sooneror later deliver himself over body and soul to that lady; but therewas no need to fear for him: for though sufficiently enthusiastic toget out of bed at five a.m. on winter mornings--he did so, at least,all through his first winter at Greshamsbury--he was not made ofthat stuff which is necessary for a staunch, burning, self-denyingconvert. It was not in him to change his very sleek black coat for aCapuchin's filthy cassock, nor his pleasant parsonage for some dirtyhole in Rome. And it was better so both for him and others. There arebut few, very few, to whom it is given to be a Huss, a Wickliffe,or a Luther; and a man gains but little by being a false Huss, or afalse Luther,--and his neighbours gain less.

  But certain lengths in self-privation Mr Oriel did go; at any rate,for some time. He eschewed matrimony, imagining that it became himas a priest to do so. He fasted rigorously on Fridays; and theneighbours declared that he scourged himself.

  Mr Oriel was, as it has been said, a man of fortune; that is to say,when he came of age he was master of thirty thousand pounds. When hetook it into his head to go into the Church, his friends bought forhim the next presentation to the living at Greshamsbury; and, a yearafter his ordination, the living falling in, Mr Oriel brought himselfand his sister to the rectory.

  Mr Oriel soon became popular. He was a dark-haired, good-lookingman, of polished manners, agreeable in society, not given to monkishausterities--except in the matter of Fridays--nor yet to theLow-Church severity of demeanour. He was thoroughly a gentleman,good-humoured, inoffensive, and sociable. But he had one fault: hewas not a marrying man.

  On this ground there was a feeling against him so strong as almost atone time to throw him into serious danger. It was not only that heshould be sworn against matrimony in his individual self--he whomfate had made so able to sustain the weight of a wife and family;but what an example he was setting! If other clergymen all aroundshould declare against wives and families, what was to become of thecountry? What was to be done in the rural districts? The religiousobservances, as regards women, of a Brigham Young were hardly so badas this!

  There were around Greshamsbury very many unmarried ladies--I believethere generally are so round most such villages. From the great househe did not receive much annoyance. Beatrice was then only just on theverge of being brought out, and was not perhaps inclined to thinkvery much of a young clergyman; and Augusta certainly intended to flyat higher game. But there were the Miss Athelings, the daughters ofa neighbouring clergyman, who were ready to go all lengths with himin High-Church matters, except as that one tremendously papal stepof celibacy; and the two Miss Hesterwells, of Hesterwell Park, theyounger of whom boldly declared her purpose of civilising the savage;and Mrs Opie Green, a very pretty widow, with a very pretty jointure,who lived in a very pretty house about a mile from Greshamsbury, andwho declared her opinion that Mr Oriel was quite right in his view ofa clergyman's position. How could a woman, situated as she was, havethe comfort of a clergyman's attention if he were to be regardedjust as any other man? She could now know in what light to regardMr Oriel, and would be able without scruple to avail herself of hiszeal. So she did avail herself of his zeal,--and that without anyscruple.

  And then there was Miss Gushing,--a young thing. Miss Gushing had agreat advantage over the other competitors for the civilisation ofMr Oriel, namely, in this--that she was able to attend his morningservices. If Mr Oriel was to be reached in any way, it was probablethat he might be reached in this way. If anything could civilisehim, this would do it. Therefore, the young thing, through all onelong, tedious winter, tore herself from her warm bed, and was tobe seen--no, not seen, but heard--entering Mr Oriel's church atsix o'clock. With indefatigable assiduity the responses were made,uttered from under a close bonnet, and out of a dark corner, in anenthusiastically feminine voice, through the whole winter.

  Nor did Miss Gushing altogether fail in her object. When aclergyman's daily audience consists of but one person, and thatperson is a young lady, it is hardly possible that he should notbecome personally intimate with her; hardly possible that he shouldnot be in some measure grateful. Miss Gushing's responses came fromher with such fervour, and she begged for ghostly advice with sucheager longing to have her scruples satisfied, that Mr Oriel hadnothing for it but to give way to a certain amount of civilisation.

  By degrees it came to pass that Miss Gushing could never get herfinal prayer said, her shawl and boa adjusted, and stow away hernice new Prayer-Book with the red letters inside, and the cross onthe back, till Mr Oriel had been into his vestry and got rid ofhis surplice. And then they met at the church-porch, and naturallywalked together till Mr Oriel's cruel gateway separated them. Theyoung thing did sometimes think that, as the parson's civilisationprogressed, he might have taken the trouble to walk with her as faras Mr Yates Umbleby's hall door; but she had hope to sustain her, anda firm resolve to merit success, even though she might not attain it.

  "Is it not ten thousand pities," she once said to him, "that nonehere should avail themselves of the inestimable privilege which yourcoming has conferred upon us? Oh, Mr Oriel, I do so wonder at it! Tome it is so delightful! The morning service in the dark church is sobeautiful, so touching!"

  "I suppose they think it is a bore getting up so early," said MrOriel.

  "Ah, a bore!" said Miss Gushing, in an enthusiastic tone ofdepreciation. "How insensate they must be! To me it gives a new charmto life. It quiets one for the day; makes one so much fitter forone's daily trials and daily troubles. Does it not, Mr Oriel?"

  "I look upon morning prayer as an imperative duty, certainly."

  "Oh, certainly, a most imperative duty; but so delicious at the sametime. I spoke to Mrs Umbleby about it, but she said she could notleave the children."

  "No: I dare say not," said Mr Oriel.

  "And Mr Umbleby said his business kept him up so late at night."

  "Very probably. I hardly expect the attendance of men of business."

  "But the servants might come, mightn't they, Mr Oriel?"

  "I fear that servants seldom can have time for daily prayers inchurch."

  "Oh, ah, no; perhaps not." And then Miss Gushing began to bethinkherself of whom should be composed the congregation which it must bepresumed that Mr Oriel wished to see around him. But on this matterhe did not enlighten her.

  Then Miss Gushing took to fasting on Fridays, and made some futileattempts to induce her priest to give her the comfort of confessionalabsolution. But, unfortunately, the zeal of the master waxed coolas that of the pupil waxed hot; and, at last, when the young thingreturned to Greshamsbury from an autumn excursion which she had madewith Mrs Umbleby to Weston-super-Mare, she found that the deliciousmorning services had died a natural death. Miss Gushing did not onthat accoun
t give up the game, but she was bound to fight with noparticular advantage in her favour.

  Miss Oriel, though a good Churchwoman, was by no means a convert toher brother's extremist views, and perhaps gave but scanty creditto the Gushings, Athelings, and Opie Greens for the sincerity oftheir religion. But, nevertheless, she and her brother were staunchfriends; and she still hoped to see the day when he might be inducedto think that an English parson might get through his parish workwith the assistance of a wife better than he could do without suchfeminine encumbrance. The girl whom she selected for his bride wasnot the young thing, but Beatrice Gresham.

  And at last it seemed probable to Mr Oriel's nearest friends that hewas in a fair way to be overcome. Not that he had begun to make loveto Beatrice, or committed himself by the utterance of any opinion asto the propriety of clerical marriages; but he daily became looserabout his peculiar tenets, raved less immoderately than heretofore asto the atrocity of the Greshamsbury church pews, and was observed totake some opportunities of conversing alone with Beatrice. Beatricehad always denied the imputation--this had usually been made by Maryin their happy days--with vehement asseverations of anger; and MissGushing had tittered, and expressed herself as supposing that greatpeople's daughters might be as barefaced as they pleased.

  All this had happened previous to the great Greshamsbury feud. MrOriel gradually got himself into a way of sauntering up to the greathouse, sauntering into the drawing-room for the purpose, as I am surehe thought, of talking to Lady Arabella, and then of sauntering homeagain, having usually found an opportunity for saying a few words toBeatrice during the visit. This went on all through the feud up tothe period of Lady Arabella's illness; and then one morning, abouta month before the date fixed for Frank's return, Mr Oriel foundhimself engaged to Miss Beatrice Gresham.

  From the day that Miss Gushing heard of it--which was not howeverfor some considerable time after this--she became an IndependentMethodist. She could no longer, she said at first, have any faith inany religion and for an hour or so she was almost tempted to swearthat she could no longer have any faith in any man. She had nearlycompleted a worked cover for a credence-table when the news reachedher, as to which, in the young enthusiasm of her heart, she had notbeen able to remain silent; it had already been promised to Mr Oriel;that promise she swore should not be kept. He was an apostate, shesaid, from his principles; an utter pervert; a false, designing man,with whom she would never have trusted herself alone on dark morningshad she known that he had such grovelling, worldly inclinations. SoMiss Gushing became an Independent Methodist; the credence-tablecovering was cut up into slippers for the preacher's feet; and theyoung thing herself, more happy in this direction than she had beenin the other, became the arbiter of that preacher's domestichappiness.

  But this little history of Miss Gushing's future life is premature.Mr Oriel became engaged demurely, nay, almost silently, to Beatrice,and no one out of their own immediate families was at the timeinformed of the matter. It was arranged very differently from thosetwo other matches--embryo, or not embryo, those, namely, of Augustawith Mr Moffat, and Frank with Mary Thorne. All Barsetshire had heardof them; but that of Beatrice and Mr Oriel was managed in a much moreprivate manner.

  "I do think you are a happy girl," said Patience to her one morning.

  "Indeed I am."

  "He is so good. You don't know how good he is as yet; he never thinksof himself, and thinks so much of those he loves."

  Beatrice took her friend's hand in her own and kissed it. She wasfull of joy. When a girl is about to be married, when she maylawfully talk of her love, there is no music in her ears so sweet asthe praises of her lover.

  "I made up my mind from the first that he should marry you."

  "Nonsense, Patience."

  "I did, indeed. I made up my mind that he should marry; and therewere only two to choose from."

  "Me and Miss Gushing," said Beatrice, laughing.

  "No; not exactly Miss Gushing. I had not many fears for Caleb there."

  "I declare she's very pretty," said Beatrice, who could afford to begood-natured. Now Miss Gushing certainly was pretty; and would havebeen very pretty had her nose not turned up so much, and could shehave parted her hair in the centre.

  "Well, I am very glad you chose me;--if it was you who chose," saidBeatrice, modestly; having, however, in her own mind a strong opinionthat Mr Oriel had chosen for himself, and had never had any doubt inthe matter. "And who was the other?"

  "Can't you guess?"

  "I won't guess any more; perhaps Mrs Green."

  "Oh, no; certainly not a widow. I don't like widows marrying. But ofcourse you could guess if you would; of course it was Mary Thorne.But I soon saw Mary would not do, for two reasons; Caleb would neverhave liked her well enough nor would she ever have liked him."

  "Not like him! oh I hope she will; I do so love Mary Thorne."

  "So do I, dearly; and so does Caleb; but he could never have lovedher as he loves you."

  "But, Patience, have you told Mary?"

  "No, I have told no one, and shall not without your leave."

  "Ah, you must tell her. Tell it her with my best, and kindest,warmest love. Tell her how happy I am, and how I long to talk toher. Tell that I will have her for my bridesmaid. Oh! I do hope thatbefore that all this horrid quarrel will be settled."

  Patience undertook the commission, and did tell Mary; did give heralso the message which Beatrice had sent. And Mary was rejoiced tohear it; for though, as Patience had said of her, she had neverherself felt any inclination to fall in love with Mr Oriel, shebelieved him to be one in whose hands her friend's happiness would besecure. Then, by degrees, the conversation changed from the loves ofMr Oriel and Beatrice to the troubles of Frank Gresham and herself.

  "She says, that let what will happen you shall be one of herbridesmaids."

  "Ah, yes, dear Trichy! that was settled between us in auld lang syne;but those settlements are all unsettled now, must all be broken. No,I cannot be her bridesmaid; but I shall yet hope to see her oncebefore her marriage."

  "And why not be her bridesmaid? Lady Arabella will hardly object tothat."

  "Lady Arabella!" said Mary, curling her lip with deep scorn. "I donot care that for Lady Arabella," and she let her silver thimble fallfrom her fingers on to the table. "If Beatrice invited me to herwedding, she might manage as to that; I should ask no question as toLady Arabella."

  "Then why not come to it?"

  She remained silent for a while, and then boldly answered. "Though Ido not care for Lady Arabella, I do care for Mr Gresham:--and I docare for his son."

  "But the squire always loved you."

  "Yes, and therefore I will not be there to vex his sight. I will tellyou the truth, Patience. I can never be in that house again tillFrank Gresham is a married man, or till I am about to be a marriedwoman. I do not think they have treated me well, but I will not treatthem ill."

  "I am sure you will not do that," said Miss Oriel.

  "I will endeavour not to do so; and, therefore, will go to none oftheir fetes! No, Patience." And then she turned her head to the armof the sofa, and silently, without audible sobs, hiding her face, sheendeavoured to get rid of her tears unseen. For one moment she hadall but resolved to pour out the whole truth of her love into herfriend's ears; but suddenly she changed her mind. Why should she talkof her own unhappiness? Why should she speak of her own love when shewas fully determined not to speak of Frank's promises.

  "Mary, dear Mary."

  "Anything but pity, Patience; anything but that," said she,convulsively, swallowing down her sobs, and rubbing away her tears."I cannot bear that. Tell Beatrice from me, that I wish her everyhappiness; and, with such a husband, I am sure she will be happy. Iwish her every joy; give her my kindest love; but tell her I cannotbe at her marriage. Oh, I should so like to see her; not there, youknow, but here, in my own room, where I still have liberty to speak."

  "But why should you decide now? She is not to be married yet
, youknow."

  "Now, or this day twelvemonth, can make no difference. I will not gointo that house again, unless--but never mind; I will not go into itall; never, never again. If I could forgive her for myself, I couldnot forgive her for my uncle. But tell me, Patience, might notBeatrice now come here? It is so dreadful to see her every Sunday inchurch and never to speak to her, never to kiss her. She seems tolook away from me as though she too had chosen to quarrel with me."

  Miss Oriel promised to do her best. She could not imagine, she said,that such a visit could be objected to on such an occasion. She wouldnot advise Beatrice to come without telling her mother; but shecould not think that Lady Arabella would be so cruel as to make anyobjection, knowing, as she could not but know, that her daughter,when married, would be at liberty to choose her own friends.

  "Good-bye, Mary," said Patience. "I wish I knew how to say more tocomfort you."

  "Oh, comfort! I don't want comfort. I want to be let alone."

  "That's just it: you are so ferocious in your scorn, so unbending, sodetermined to take all the punishment that comes in your way."

  "What I do take, I'll take without complaint," said Mary; and thenthey kissed each other and parted.