Doctor Thorne

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XXI

  Mr Moffat Falls into Trouble

  We will now, with the reader's kind permission, skip over some monthsin our narrative. Frank returned from Courcy Castle to Greshamsbury,and having communicated to his mother--much in the same manner as hehad to the countess--the fact that his mission had been unsuccessful,he went up after a day or two to Cambridge. During his short stay atGreshamsbury he did not even catch a glimpse of Mary. He asked forher, of course, and was told that it was not likely that she would beat the house just at present. He called at the doctor's, but she wasdenied to him there; "she was out," Janet said,--"probably with MissOriel." He went to the parsonage and found Miss Oriel at home; butMary had not been seen that morning. He then returned to the house;and, having come to the conclusion that she had not thus vanishedinto air, otherwise than by preconcerted arrangement, he boldly taxedBeatrice on the subject.

  Beatrice looked very demure; declared that no one in the house hadquarrelled with Mary; confessed that it had been thought prudent thatshe should for a while stay away from Greshamsbury; and, of course,ended by telling her brother everything, including all the scenesthat had passed between Mary and herself.

  "It is out of the question your thinking of marrying her, Frank,"said she. "You must know that nobody feels it more strongly thanpoor Mary herself;" and Beatrice looked the very personification ofdomestic prudence.

  "I know nothing of the kind," said he, with the headlong imperativeair that was usual with him in discussing matters with his sisters."I know nothing of the kind. Of course I cannot say what Mary'sfeelings may be: a pretty life she must have had of it among you. Butyou may be sure of this, Beatrice, and so may my mother, that nothingon earth shall make me give her up--nothing." And Frank, as he madethe protestation, strengthened his own resolution by thinking of allthe counsel that Miss Dunstable had given him.

  The brother and sister could hardly agree, as Beatrice was deadagainst the match. Not that she would not have liked Mary Thorne fora sister-in-law, but that she shared to a certain degree the feelingwhich was now common to all the Greshams--that Frank must marrymoney. It seemed, at any rate, to be imperative that he should eitherdo that or not marry at all. Poor Beatrice was not very mercenaryin her views: she had no wish to sacrifice her brother to anyMiss Dunstable; but yet she felt, as they all felt--Mary Thorneincluded--that such a match as that, of the young heir with thedoctor's niece, was not to be thought of;--not to be spoken of asa thing that was in any way possible. Therefore, Beatrice, thoughshe was Mary's great friend, though she was her brother's favouritesister, could give Frank no encouragement. Poor Frank! circumstanceshad made but one bride possible to him: he must marry money.

  His mother said nothing to him on the subject: when she learnt thatthe affair with Miss Dunstable was not to come off, she merelyremarked that it would perhaps be best for him to return to Cambridgeas soon as possible. Had she spoken her mind out, she would probablyhave also advised him to remain there as long as possible. Thecountess had not omitted to write to her when Frank left CourcyCastle; and the countess's letter certainly made the anxious motherthink that her son's education had hardly yet been completed. Withthis secondary object, but with that of keeping him out of the way ofMary Thorne in the first place, Lady Arabella was now quite satisfiedthat her son should enjoy such advantages as an education completedat the university might give him.

  With his father Frank had a long conversation but, alas! the gist ofhis father's conversation was this, that it behoved him, Frank, tomarry money. The father, however, did not put it to him in the cold,callous way in which his lady-aunt had done, and his lady-mother.He did not bid him go and sell himself to the first female he couldfind possessed of wealth. It was with inward self-reproaches, andtrue grief of spirit, that the father told the son that it was notpossible for him to do as those may do who are born really rich, orreally poor.

  "If you marry a girl without a fortune, Frank, how are you to live?"the father asked, after having confessed how deep he himself hadinjured his own heir.

  "I don't care about money, sir," said Frank. "I shall be just ashappy as if Boxall Hill had never been sold. I don't care a strawabout that sort of thing."

  "Ah! my boy; but you will care: you will soon find that you do care."

  "Let me go into some profession. Let me go to the Bar. I am sure Icould earn my own living. Earn it! of course I could, why not I aswell as others? I should like of all things to be a barrister."

  There was much more of the same kind, in which Frank said all that hecould think of to lessen his father's regrets. In their conversationnot a word was spoken about Mary Thorne. Frank was not aware whetheror no his father had been told of the great family danger which wasdreaded in that quarter. That he had been told, we may surmise, asLady Arabella was not wont to confine the family dangers to her ownbosom. Moreover, Mary's presence had, of course, been missed. Thetruth was, that the squire had been told, with great bitterness, ofwhat had come to pass, and all the evil had been laid at his door.He it had been who had encouraged Mary to be regarded almost as adaughter of the house of Greshamsbury; he it was who taught thatodious doctor--odious in all but his aptitude for good doctoring--tothink himself a fit match for the aristocracy of the county. It hadbeen his fault, this great necessity that Frank should marry money;and now it was his fault that Frank was absolutely talking ofmarrying a pauper.

  By no means in quiescence did the squire hear these charges broughtagainst him. The Lady Arabella, in each attack, got quite as much asshe gave, and, at last, was driven to retreat in a state of headache,which she declared to be chronic; and which, so she assured herdaughter Augusta, must prevent her from having any more lengthenedconversations with her lord--at any rate for the next three months.But though the squire may be said to have come off on the whole asvictor in these combats, they did not perhaps have, on that account,the less effect upon him. He knew it was true that he had done muchtowards ruining his son and he also could think of no other remedythan matrimony. It was Frank's doom, pronounced even by the voice ofhis father, that he must marry money.

  And so, Frank went off again to Cambridge, feeling himself, as hewent, to be a much lesser man in Greshamsbury estimation than he hadbeen some two months earlier, when his birthday had been celebrated.Once during his short stay at Greshamsbury he had seen the doctor;but the meeting had been anything but pleasant. He had been afraidto ask after Mary; and the doctor had been too diffident of himselfto speak of her. They had met casually on the road, and, though eachin his heart loved the other, the meeting had been anything butpleasant.

  And so Frank went back to Cambridge; and, as he did so, he stoutlyresolved that nothing should make him untrue to Mary Thorne."Beatrice," said he, on the morning he went away, when she came intohis room to superintend his packing--"Beatrice, if she ever talksabout me--"

  "Oh, Frank, my darling Frank, don't think of it--it is madness; sheknows it is madness."

  "Never mind; if she ever talks about me, tell her that the last wordI said was, that I would never forget her. She can do as she likes."

  Beatrice made no promise, never hinted that she would give themessage; but it may be taken for granted that she had not been longin company with Mary Thorne before she did give it.

  And then there were other troubles at Greshamsbury. It had beendecided that Augusta's marriage was to take place in September; butMr Moffat had, unfortunately, been obliged to postpone the happy day.He himself had told Augusta--not, of course, without protestationsas to his regret--and had written to this effect to Mr Gresham,"Electioneering matters, and other troubles had," he said, "made thispeculiarly painful postponement absolutely necessary."

  Augusta seemed to bear her misfortune with more equanimity than is,we believe, usual with young ladies under such circumstances. Shespoke of it to her mother in a very matter-of-fact way, and seemedalmost contented at the idea of remaining at Greshamsbury tillFebruary; which was the time now named for the marriage. But LadyArabella was not e
qually well satisfied, nor was the squire.

  "I half believe that fellow is not honest," he had once said out loudbefore Frank, and this set Frank a-thinking of what dishonesty in thematter it was probable that Mr Moffat might be guilty, and what wouldbe the fitting punishment for such a crime. Nor did he think on thesubject in vain; especially after a conference on the matter which hehad with his friend Harry Baker. This conference took place duringthe Christmas vacation.

  It should be mentioned, that the time spent by Frank at Courcy Castlehad not done much to assist him in his views as to an early degree,and that it had at last been settled that he should stay up atCambridge another year. When he came home at Christmas he found thatthe house was not peculiarly lively. Mary was absent on a visit withMiss Oriel. Both these young ladies were staying with Miss Oriel'saunt, in the neighbourhood of London and Frank soon learnt thatthere was no chance that either of them would be home before hisreturn. No message had been left for him by Mary--none at least hadbeen left with Beatrice; and he began in his heart to accuse her ofcoldness and perfidy;--not, certainly, with much justice, seeing thatshe had never given him the slightest encouragement.

  The absence of Patience Oriel added to the dullness of the place. Itwas certainly hard upon Frank that all the attraction of the villageshould be removed to make way and prepare for his return--harder,perhaps, on them; for, to tell the truth, Miss Oriel's visit had beenentirely planned to enable her to give Mary a comfortable way ofleaving Greshamsbury during the time that Frank should remain athome. Frank thought himself cruelly used. But what did Mr Oriel thinkwhen doomed to eat his Christmas pudding alone, because the youngsquire would be unreasonable in his love? What did the doctor think,as he sat solitary by his deserted hearth--the doctor, who nolonger permitted himself to enjoy the comforts of the Greshamsburydining-table? Frank hinted and grumbled; talked to Beatrice of thedetermined constancy of his love, and occasionally consoled himselfby a stray smile from some of the neighbouring belles. The blackhorse was made perfect; the old grey pony was by no means discarded;and much that was satisfactory was done in the sporting line. Butstill the house was dull, and Frank felt that he was the cause ofits being so. Of the doctor he saw but little: he never came toGreshamsbury unless to see Lady Arabella as doctor, or to be closetedwith the squire. There were no social evenings with him; no animatedconfabulations at the doctor's house; no discourses between them,as there had wont to be, about the merits of the different covers,and the capacities of the different hounds. These were dull days onthe whole for Frank; and sad enough, we may say, for our friend thedoctor.

  In February, Frank again went back to college; having settled withHarry Baker certain affairs which weighed on his mind. He went backto Cambridge, promising to be home on the 20th of the month, so as tobe present at his sister's wedding. A cold and chilling time had beennamed for these hymeneal joys, but one not altogether unsuited to thefeelings of the happy pair. February is certainly not a warm month;but with the rich it is generally a cosy, comfortable time. Goodfires, winter cheer, groaning tables, and warm blankets, make afictitious summer, which, to some tastes, is more delightful thanthe long days and the hot sun. And some marriages are especiallywinter matches. They depend for their charm on the same substantialattractions: instead of heart beating to heart in sympathetic unison,purse chinks to purse. The rich new furniture of the new abode islooked to instead of the rapture of a pure embrace. The new carriageis depended on rather than the new heart's companion and the firstbright gloss, prepared by the upholsterer's hands, stands in lieu ofthe rosy tints which young love lends to his true votaries.

  Mr Moffat had not spent his Christmas at Greshamsbury. That eternalelection petition, those eternal lawyers, the eternal care of hiswell-managed wealth, forbade him the enjoyment of any such pleasures.He could not come to Greshamsbury for Christmas, nor yet for thefestivities of the new year; but now and then he wrote prettilyworded notes, sending occasionally a silver-gilt pencil-case, or asmall brooch, and informed Lady Arabella that he looked forward tothe 20th of February with great satisfaction. But, in the meanwhile,the squire became anxious, and at last went up to London and Frank,who was at Cambridge, bought the heaviest cutting whip to be found inthat town, and wrote a confidential letter to Harry Baker.

  Poor Mr Moffat! It is well known that none but the brave deserve thefair; but thou, without much excuse for bravery, had secured forthyself one who, at any rate, was fair enough for thee. Would itnot have been well hadst thou looked into thyself to see what realbravery might be in thee, before thou hadst prepared to desert thisfair one thou hadst already won? That last achievement, one may say,did require some special courage.

  Poor Mr Moffat! It is wonderful that as he sat in that gig, going toGatherum Castle, planning how he would be off with Miss Gresham andafterwards on with Miss Dunstable, it is wonderful that he should notthen have cast his eye behind him, and looked at that stalwart pairof shoulders which were so close to his own back. As he afterwardspondered on his scheme while sipping the duke's claret, it is oddthat he should not have observed the fiery pride of purpose and powerof wrath which was so plainly written on that young man's brow: or,when he matured, and finished, and carried out his purpose, that hedid not think of that keen grasp which had already squeezed his ownhand with somewhat too warm a vigour, even in the way of friendship.

  Poor Mr Moffat! it is probable that he forgot to think of Frank atall as connected with his promised bride; it is probable that helooked forward only to the squire's violence and the enmity of thehouse of Courcy; and that he found from enquiry at his heart'spulses, that he was man enough to meet these. Could he have guessedwhat a whip Frank Gresham would have bought at Cambridge--could hehave divined what a letter would have been written to Harry Baker--itis probable, nay, we think we may say certain, that Miss Greshamwould have become Mrs Moffat.

  Miss Gresham, however, never did become Mrs Moffat. About two daysafter Frank's departure for Cambridge--it is just possible that MrMoffat was so prudent as to make himself aware of the fact--but justtwo days after Frank's departure, a very long, elaborate, and clearlyexplanatory letter was received at Greshamsbury. Mr Moffat was quitesure that Miss Gresham and her very excellent parents would do himthe justice to believe that he was not actuated, &c., &c., &c.The long and the short of this was, that Mr Moffat signified hisintention of breaking off the match without offering any intelligiblereason.

  Augusta again bore her disappointment well: not, indeed, withoutsorrow and heartache, and inward, hidden tears; but still well. Sheneither raved, nor fainted, nor walked about by moonlight alone. Shewrote no poetry, and never once thought of suicide. When, indeed, sheremembered the rosy-tinted lining, the unfathomable softness of thatLong-acre carriage, her spirit did for one moment give way; but, onthe whole, she bore it as a strong-minded woman and a de Courcyshould do.

  But both Lady Arabella and the squire were greatly vexed. The formerhad made the match, and the latter, having consented to it, hadincurred deeper responsibilities to enable him to bring it about.The money which was to have been given to Mr Moffat was still to thefore; but alas! how much, how much that he could ill spare, had beenthrown away on bridal preparations! It is, moreover, an unpleasantthing for a gentleman to have his daughter jilted; perhaps peculiarlyso to have her jilted by a tailor's son.

  Lady Arabella's woe was really piteous. It seemed to her as thoughcruel fate were heaping misery after misery upon the wretched houseof Greshamsbury. A few weeks since things were going so well withher! Frank then was all but the accepted husband of almost untoldwealth--so, at least, she was informed by her sister-in-law--whereas,Augusta, was the accepted wife of wealth, not indeed untold, but ofdimensions quite sufficiently respectable to cause much joy in thetelling. Where now were her golden hopes? Where now the splendidfuture of her poor duped children? Augusta was left to pine alone;and Frank, in a still worse plight, insisted on maintaining his lovefor a bastard and a pauper.

  For Frank's affair she had received some p
oor consolation by layingall the blame on the squire's shoulders. What she had then saidwas now repaid to her with interest; for not only had she been themaker of Augusta's match, but she had boasted of the deed with all amother's pride.

  It was from Beatrice that Frank had obtained his tidings. This lastresolve on the part of Mr Moffat had not altogether been unsuspectedby some of the Greshams, though altogether unsuspected by the LadyArabella. Frank had spoken of it as a possibility to Beatrice,and was not quite unprepared when the information reached him. Heconsequently bought his big cutting whip, and wrote his confidentialletter to Harry Baker.

  On the following day Frank and Harry might have been seen, with theirheads nearly close together, leaning over one of the tables in thelarge breakfast-room at the Tavistock Hotel in Covent Garden. Theominous whip, to the handle of which Frank had already made his handwell accustomed, was lying on the table between them; and ever andanon Harry Baker would take it up and feel its weight approvingly.Oh, Mr Moffat! poor Mr Moffat! go not out into the fashionable worldto-day; above all, go not to that club of thine in Pall Mall; but,oh! especially go not there, as is thy wont to do, at three o'clockin the afternoon!

  With much care did those two young generals lay their plans ofattack. Let it not for a moment be thought that it was ever in theminds of either of them that two men should attack one. But itwas thought that Mr Moffat might be rather coy in coming out fromhis seclusion to meet the proffered hand of his once intendedbrother-in-law when he should see that hand armed with a heavy whip.Baker, therefore, was content to act as a decoy duck, and remarkedthat he might no doubt make himself useful in restraining the publicmercy, and, probably, in controlling the interference of policemen.

  "It will be deuced hard if I can't get five or six shies at him,"said Frank, again clutching his weapon almost spasmodically. Oh, MrMoffat! five or six shies with such a whip, and such an arm! Formyself, I would sooner join in a second Balaclava gallop thanencounter it.

  At ten minutes before four these two heroes might be seen walking upPall Mall, towards the ---- Club. Young Baker walked with an eagerdisengaged air. Mr Moffat did not know his appearance; he had,therefore, no anxiety to pass along unnoticed. But Frank had in somemysterious way drawn his hat very far over his forehead, and hadbuttoned his shooting-coat up round his chin. Harry had recommendedto him a great-coat, in order that he might the better conceal hisface; but Frank had found that the great-coat was an encumbrance tohis arm. He put it on, and when thus clothed he had tried the whip,he found that he cut the air with much less potency than in thelighter garment. He contented himself, therefore, with looking downon the pavement as he walked along, letting the long point of thewhip stick up from his pocket, and flattering himself that even MrMoffat would not recognise him at the first glance. Poor Mr Moffat!If he had but had the chance!

  And now, having arrived at the front of the club, the two friends fora moment separate: Frank remains standing on the pavement, under theshade of the high stone area-railing, while Harry jauntily skips upthree steps at a time, and with a very civil word of inquiry of thehall porter, sends in his card to Mr Moffat--

  MR HARRY BAKER

  Mr Moffat, never having heard of such a gentleman in his life,unwittingly comes out into the hall, and Harry, with the sweetestsmile, addresses him.

  Now the plan of the campaign had been settled in this wise: Bakerwas to send into the club for Mr Moffat, and invite that gentlemandown into the street. It was probable that the invitation mightbe declined; and it had been calculated in such case that the twogentlemen would retire for parley into the strangers' room, which wasknown to be immediately opposite the hall door. Frank was to keep hiseye on the portals, and if he found that Mr Moffat did not appearas readily as might be desired, he also was to ascend the steps andhurry into the strangers' room. Then, whether he met Mr Moffat thereor elsewhere, or wherever he might meet him, he was to greet him withall the friendly vigour in his power, while Harry disposed of theclub porters.

  But fortune, who ever favours the brave, specially favoured FrankGresham on this occasion. Just as Harry Baker had put his cardinto the servant's hand, Mr Moffat, with his hat on, prepared forthe street, appeared in the hall; Mr Baker addressed him with hissweetest smile, and begged the pleasure of saying a word or two asthey descended into the street. Had not Mr Moffat been going thitherit would have been very improbable that he should have done so atHarry's instance. But, as it was, he merely looked rather solemnat his visitor--it was his wont to look solemn--and continued thedescent of the steps.

  Frank, his heart leaping the while, saw his prey, and retreated twosteps behind the area-railing, the dread weapon already well poisedin his hand. Oh! Mr Moffat! Mr Moffat! if there be any goddess tointerfere in thy favour, let her come forward now without delay; lether now bear thee off on a cloud if there be one to whom thou artsufficiently dear! But there is no such goddess.

  Harry smiled blandly till they were well on the pavement, saying somenothing, and keeping the victim's face averted from the avengingangel; and then, when the raised hand was sufficiently nigh, hewithdrew two steps towards the nearest lamp-post. Not for him was thehonour of the interview;--unless, indeed, succouring policemen mightgive occasion for some gleam of glory.

  But succouring policemen were no more to be come by than goddesses.Where were ye, men, when that savage whip fell about the ears of thepoor ex-legislator? In Scotland Yard, sitting dozing on your benches,or talking soft nothings to the housemaids round the corner; for yewere not walking on your beats, nor standing at coign of vantage, towatch the tumults of the day. But had ye been there what could yehave done? Had Sir Richard himself been on the spot Frank Greshamwould still, we may say, have had his five shies at that unfortunateone.

  When Harry Baker quickly seceded from the way, Mr Moffat at once sawthe fate before him. His hair doubtless stood on end, and his voicerefused to give the loud screech with which he sought to invoke theclub. An ashy paleness suffused his cheeks, and his tottering stepswere unable to bear him away in flight. Once, and twice, the cuttingwhip came well down across his back. Had he been wise enough to standstill and take his thrashing in that attitude, it would have beenwell for him. But men so circumstanced have never such prudence.After two blows he made a dash at the steps, thinking to get backinto the club; but Harry, who had by no means reclined in idlenessagainst the lamp-post, here stopped him: "You had better go back intothe street," said Harry; "indeed you had," giving him a shove fromoff the second step.

  Then of course Frank could not do other than hit him anywhere. When agentleman is dancing about with much energy it is hardly possible tostrike him fairly on his back. The blows, therefore, came now on hislegs and now on his head; and Frank unfortunately got more than hisfive or six shies before he was interrupted.

  The interruption however came, all too soon for Frank's idea ofjustice. Though there be no policeman to take part in a London row,there are always others ready enough to do so; amateur policemen,who generally sympathise with the wrong side, and, in nine casesout of ten, expend their generous energy in protecting thieves andpickpockets. When it was seen with what tremendous ardour thatdread weapon fell about the ears of the poor undefended gentleman,interference there was at last, in spite of Harry Baker's bestendeavours, and loudest protestations.

  "Do not interrupt them, sir," said he; "pray do not. It is a familyaffair, and they will neither of them like it."

  In the teeth, however, of these assurances, rude people didinterfere, and after some nine or ten shies Frank found himselfencompassed by the arms, and encumbered by the weight of a very stoutgentleman, who hung affectionately about his neck and shoulders;whereas, Mr Moffat was already receiving consolation from twomotherly females, sitting in a state of syncope on the good-naturedknees of a fishmonger's apprentice.

  Frank was thoroughly out of breath: nothing came from his lips buthalf-muttered expletives and unintelligible denunciations of theiniquity of his foe. But still he struggled to be at him again. W
eall know how dangerous is the taste of blood; now cruelty will becomea custom even with the most tender-hearted. Frank felt that he hadhardly fleshed his virgin lash: he thought, almost with despair, thathe had not yet at all succeeded as became a man and a brother; hismemory told him of but one or two of the slightest touches that hadgone well home to the offender. He made a desperate effort to throwoff that incubus round his neck and rush again to the combat.

  "Harry--Harry; don't let him go--don't let him go," he barelyarticulated.

  "Do you want to murder the man, sir; to murder him?" said the stoutgentleman over his shoulder, speaking solemnly into his very ear.

  "I don't care," said Frank, struggling manfully but uselessly. "Letme out, I say; I don't care--don't let him go, Harry, whatever youdo."

  "He has got it prettily tidily," said Harry; "I think that willperhaps do for the present."

  By this time there was a considerable concourse. The club steps werecrowded with the members; among whom there were many of Mr Moffat'sacquaintance. Policemen also now flocked up, and the question aroseas to what should be done with the originators of the affray. Frankand Harry found that they were to consider themselves under a gentlearrest, and Mr Moffat, in a fainting state, was carried into theinterior of the club.

  Frank, in his innocence, had intended to have celebrated this littleaffair when it was over by a light repast and a bottle of claretwith his friend, and then to have gone back to Cambridge by the mailtrain. He found, however, that his schemes in this respect werefrustrated. He had to get bail to attend at Marlborough Streetpolice-office should he be wanted within the next two or three days;and was given to understand that he would be under the eye of thepolice, at any rate until Mr Moffat should be out of danger.

  "Out of danger!" said Frank to his friend with a startled look."Why I hardly got at him." Nevertheless, they did have their slightrepast, and also their bottle of claret.

  On the second morning after this occurrence, Frank was again sittingin that public room at the Tavistock, and Harry was again sittingopposite to him. The whip was not now so conspicuously producedbetween them, having been carefully packed up and put away amongFrank's other travelling properties. They were so sitting, ratherglum, when the door swung open, and a heavy, quick step was heardadvancing towards them. It was the squire; whose arrival there hadbeen momentarily expected.

  "Frank," said he--"Frank, what on earth is all this?" and as he spokehe stretched out both hands, the right to his son and the left to hisfriend.

  "He has given a blackguard a licking, that is all," said Harry.

  Frank felt that his hand was held with a peculiarly warm grasp; andhe could not but think that his father's face, raised though hiseyebrows were--though there was on it an intended expression ofamazement and, perhaps, regret--nevertheless he could not but thinkthat his father's face looked kindly at him.

  "God bless my soul, my dear boy! what have you done to the man?"

  "He's not a ha'porth the worse, sir," said Frank, still holding hisfather's hand.

  "Oh, isn't he!" said Harry, shrugging his shoulders. "He must be madeof some very tough article then."

  "But my dear boys, I hope there's no danger. I hope there's nodanger."

  "Danger!" said Frank, who could not yet induce himself to believethat he had been allowed a fair chance with Mr Moffat.

  "Oh, Frank! Frank! how could you be so rash? In the middle of PallMall, too. Well! well! well! All the women down at Greshamsbury willhave it that you have killed him."

  "I almost wish I had," said Frank.

  "Oh, Frank! Frank! But now tell me--"

  And then the father sat well pleased while he heard, chiefly fromHarry Baker, the full story of his son's prowess. And then they didnot separate without another slight repast and another bottle ofclaret.

  Mr Moffat retired to the country for a while, and then went abroad;having doubtless learnt that the petition was not likely to give hima seat for the city of Barchester. And this was the end of the wooingwith Miss Gresham.