CHAPTER XLI
Doctor Thorne Won't Interfere
At this period there was, as it were, a truce to the ordinary littleskirmishes which had been so customary between Lady Arabella andthe squire. Things had so fallen out, that they neither of them hadmuch spirit for a contest; and, moreover, on that point which atthe present moment was most thought of by both of them, they werestrangely in unison. For each of them was anxious to prevent thethreatened marriage of their only son.
It must, moreover, be remembered, that Lady Arabella had carried agreat point in ousting Mr Yates Umbleby and putting the management ofthe estate into the hands of her own partisan. But then the squirehad not done less in getting rid of Fillgrave and reinstating DrThorne in possession of the family invalids. The losses, therefore,had been equal; the victories equal; and there was a mutual object.
And it must be confessed, also, that Lady Arabella's taste forgrandeur was on the decline. Misfortune was coming too near to her toleave her much anxiety for the gaieties of a London season. Thingswere not faring well with her. When her eldest daughter was going tomarry a man of fortune, and a member of Parliament, she had thoughtnothing of demanding a thousand pounds or so for the extraordinaryexpenses incident to such an occasion. But now, Beatrice was tobecome the wife of a parish parson, and even that was thought to bea fortunate event; she had, therefore, no heart for splendour.
"The quieter we can do it the better," she wrote to hercountess-sister. "Her father wanted to give him at least a thousandpounds; but Mr Gazebee has told me confidentially that it literallycannot be done at the present moment! Ah, my dear Rosina! how thingshave been managed! If one or two of the girls will come over, weshall all take it as a favour. Beatrice would think it very kind ofthem. But I don't think of asking you or Amelia." Amelia was alwaysthe grandest of the de Courcy family, being almost on an equalitywith--nay, in some respect superior to--the countess herself. Butthis, of course, was before the days of the nice place in Surrey.
Such, and so humble being the present temper of the lady ofGreshamsbury, it will not be thought surprising that she and MrGresham should at last come together in their efforts to reclaimtheir son.
At first Lady Arabella urged upon the squire the duty of being veryperemptory and very angry. "Do as other fathers do in such cases.Make him understand that he will have no allowance to live on." "Heunderstands that well enough," said Mr Gresham.
"Threaten to cut him off with a shilling," said her ladyship, withspirit. "I haven't a shilling to cut him off with," answered thesquire, bitterly.
But Lady Arabella herself soon perceived, that this line would notdo. As Mr Gresham himself confessed, his own sins against his son hadbeen too great to allow of his taking a high hand with him. Besides,Mr Gresham was not a man who could ever be severe with a son whoseindividual conduct had been so good as Frank's. This marriage was, inhis view, a misfortune to be averted if possible,--to be averted byany possible means; but, as far as Frank was concerned, it was to beregarded rather as a monomania than a crime.
"I did feel so certain that he would have succeeded with MissDunstable," said the mother, almost crying.
"I thought it impossible but that at his age a twelvemonth's knockingabout the world would cure him," said the father.
"I never heard of a boy being so obstinate about a girl," said themother. "I'm sure he didn't get it from the de Courcys:" and then,again, they talked it over in all its bearings.
"But what are they to live upon?" said Lady Arabella, appealing, asit were, to some impersonation of reason. "That's what I want him totell me. What are they to live upon?"
"I wonder whether de Courcy could get him into some embassy?" saidthe father. "He does talk of a profession."
"What! with the girl and all?" asked Lady Arabella with horror,alarmed at the idea of such an appeal being made to her noblebrother.
"No; but before he marries. He might be broken of it that way."
"Nothing will break him," said the wretched mother;"nothing--nothing. For my part, I think that he is possessed. Why wasshe brought here? Oh, dear! oh, dear! Why was she ever brought intothis house?"
This last question Mr Gresham did not think it necessary to answer.That evil had been done, and it would be useless to dispute it. "I'lltell you what I'll do," said he. "I'll speak to the doctor himself."
"It's not the slightest use," said Lady Arabella. "He will not assistus. Indeed, I firmly believe it's all his own doing."
"Oh, nonsense! that really is nonsense, my love."
"Very well, Mr Gresham. What I say is always nonsense, I know; youhave always told me so. But yet, see how things have turned out. Iknew how it would be when she was first brought into the house." Thisassertion was rather a stretch on the part of Lady Arabella.
"Well, it is nonsense to say that Frank is in love with the girl atthe doctor's bidding."
"I think you know, Mr Gresham, that I don't mean that. What I say isthis, that Dr Thorne, finding what an easy fool Frank is--"
"I don't think he's at all easy, my love; and certainly is not afool."
"Very well, have it your own way. I'll not say a word more. I'mstruggling to do my best, and I'm browbeaten on every side. God knowsI am not in a state of health to bear it!" And Lady Arabella bowedher head into her pocket-handkerchief.
"I think, my dear, if you were to see Mary herself it might do somegood," said the squire, when the violence of his wife's grief hadsomewhat subsided.
"What! go and call upon this girl?"
"Yes; you can send Beatrice to give her notice, you know. She neverwas unreasonable, and I do not think that you would find her so. Youshould tell her, you know--"
"Oh, I should know very well what to tell her, Mr Gresham."
"Yes, my love; I'm sure you would; nobody better. But what I mean is,that if you are to do any good, you should be kind in your manner.Mary Thorne has a spirit that you cannot break. You may perhaps lead,but nobody can drive her."
As this scheme originated with her husband, Lady Arabella could not,of course, confess that there was much in it. But, nevertheless,she determined to attempt it, thinking that if anything could beefficacious for good in their present misfortunes, it would be herown diplomatic powers. It was, therefore, at last settled betweenthem, that he should endeavour to talk over the doctor, and that shewould do the same with Mary.
"And then I will speak to Frank," said Lady Arabella. "As yet he hasnever had the audacity to open his mouth to me about Mary Thorne,though I believe he declares his love openly to every one else in thehouse."
"And I will get Oriel to speak to him," said the squire.
"I think Patience might do more good. I did once think he was gettingfond of Patience, and I was quite unhappy about it then. Ah, dear! Ishould be almost pleased at that now."
And thus it was arranged that all the artillery of Greshamsbury wasto be brought to bear at once on Frank's love, so as to crush it, asit were, by the very weight of metal.
It may be imagined that the squire would have less scruple inaddressing the doctor on this matter than his wife would feel; andthat his part of their present joint undertaking was less difficultthan hers. For he and the doctor had ever been friends at heart. But,nevertheless, he did feel much scruple, as, with his stick in hand,he walked down to the little gate which opened out near the doctor'shouse.
This feeling was so strong, that he walked on beyond this door to theentrance, thinking of what he was going to do, and then back again.It seemed to be his fate to be depending always on the clemency orconsideration of Dr Thorne. At this moment the doctor was imposingthe only obstacle which was offered to the sale of a great part ofhis estate. Sir Louis, through his lawyer, was pressing the doctor tosell, and the lawyer was loudly accusing the doctor of delaying to doso. "He has the management of your property," said Mr Finnie; "but hemanages it in the interest of his own friend. It is quite clear, andwe will expose it." "By all means," said Sir Louis. "It is a d----dshame, and it shall be exposed." Of all
this the squire was aware.
When he reached the doctor's house, he was shown into thedrawing-room, and found Mary there alone. It had always been hishabit to kiss her forehead when he chanced to meet her about thehouse at Greshamsbury. She had been younger and more childish then;but even now she was but a child to him, so he kissed her as he hadbeen wont to do. She blushed slightly as she looked up into his face,and said: "Oh, Mr Gresham, I am so glad to see you here again."
As he looked at her he could not but acknowledge that it was naturalthat Frank should love her. He had never before seen that she wasattractive;--had never had an opinion about it. She had grown upas a child under his eye; and as she had not had the name of beingespecially a pretty child, he had never thought on the subject. Nowhe saw before him a woman whose every feature was full of spirit andanimation whose eye sparkled with more than mere brilliancy; whoseface was full of intelligence; whose very smile was eloquent. Was itto be wondered at that Frank should have learned to love her?
Miss Thorne wanted but one attribute which many consider essentialto feminine beauty. She had no brilliancy of complexion, no pearlywhiteness, no vivid carnation nor, indeed, did she possess the darkbrilliance of a brunette. But there was a speaking earnestness in herface; an expression of mental faculty which the squire now for thefirst time perceived to be charming.
And then he knew how good she was. He knew well what was her nature;how generous, how open, how affectionate, and yet how proud! Herpride was her fault; but even that was not a fault in his eyes. Outof his own family there was no one whom he had loved, and could love,as he loved her. He felt, and acknowledged that no man could have abetter wife. And yet he was there with the express object of rescuinghis son from such a marriage!
"You are looking very well, Mary," he said, almost involuntarily."Am I?" she answered, smiling. "It's very nice at any rate to becomplimented. Uncle never pays me any compliments of that sort."
In truth, she was looking well. She would say to herself overand over again, from morning to night, that Frank's love for herwould be, must be, unfortunate; could not lead to happiness. But,nevertheless, it did make her happy. She had before his return madeup her mind to be forgotten, and it was so sweet to find that he hadbeen so far from forgetting her. A girl may scold a man in words forrashness in his love, but her heart never scolds him for such anoffence as that. She had not been slighted, and her heart, therefore,still rose buoyant within her breast.
The doctor entered the room. As the squire's visit had been expectedby him, he had of course not been out of the house. "And now Isuppose I must go," said Mary; "for I know you are going to talkabout business. But, uncle, Mr Gresham says I'm looking very well.Why have you not been able to find that out?"
"She's a dear, good girl," said the squire, as the door shut behindher; "a dear good girl;" and the doctor could not fail to see thathis eyes were filled with tears.
"I think she is," said he, quietly. And then they both sat silent, asthough each was waiting to hear whether the other had anything moreto say on that subject. The doctor, at any rate, had nothing more tosay.
"I have come here specially to speak to you about her," said thesquire.
"About Mary?"
"Yes, doctor; about her and Frank: something must be done, somearrangement made: if not for our sakes, at least for theirs."
"What arrangement, squire?"
"Ah! that is the question. I take it for granted that either Frank orMary has told you that they have engaged themselves to each other."
"Frank told me so twelve months since."
"And has not Mary told you?"
"Not exactly that. But, never mind; she has, I believe, no secretfrom me. Though I have said but little to her, I think I know itall."
"Well, what then?"
The doctor shook his head and put up his hands. He had nothing tosay; no proposition to make; no arrangement to suggest. The thing wasso, and he seemed to say that, as far as he was concerned, there wasan end of it.
The squire sat looking at him, hardly knowing how to proceed. Itseemed to him, that the fact of a young man and a young lady being inlove with each other was not a thing to be left to arrange itself,particularly, seeing the rank of life in which they were placed. Butthe doctor seemed to be of a different opinion.
"But, Dr Thorne, there is no man on God's earth who knows my affairsas well as you do; and in knowing mine, you know Frank's. Do youthink it possible that they should marry each other?"
"Possible; yes, it is possible. You mean, will it be prudent?"
"Well, take it in that way; would it not be most imprudent?"
"At present, it certainly would be. I have never spoken to either ofthem on the subject; but I presume they do not think of such a thingfor the present."
"But, doctor--" The squire was certainly taken aback by the coolnessof the doctor's manner. After all, he, the squire, was Mr Greshamof Greshamsbury, generally acknowledged to be the first commoner inBarsetshire; after all, Frank was his heir, and, in process of time,he would be Mr Gresham of Greshamsbury. Crippled as the estate was,there would be something left, and the rank at any rate remained. Butas to Mary, she was not even the doctor's daughter. She was not onlypenniless, but nameless, fatherless, worse than motherless! It wasincredible that Dr Thorne, with his generally exalted ideas as tofamily, should speak in this cold way as to a projected marriagebetween the heir of Greshamsbury and his brother's bastard child!
"But, doctor," repeated the squire.
The doctor put one leg over the other, and began to rub his calf."Squire," said he. "I think I know all that you would say, all thatyou mean. And you don't like to say it, because you would not wish topain me by alluding to Mary's birth."
"But, independently of that, what would they live on?" said thesquire, energetically. "Birth is a great thing, a very great thing.You and I think exactly alike about that, so we need have no dispute.You are quite as proud of Ullathorne as I am of Greshamsbury."
"I might be if it belonged to me."
"But you are. It is no use arguing. But, putting that asidealtogether, what would they live on? If they were to marry, whatwould they do? Where would they go? You know what Lady Arabellathinks of such things; would it be possible that they should live upat the house with her? Besides, what a life would that be for both ofthem! Could they live here? Would that be well for them?"
The squire looked at the doctor for an answer; but he still went onrubbing his calf. Mr Gresham, therefore, was constrained to continuehis expostulation.
"When I am dead there will still, I hope, be something;--somethingleft for the poor fellow. Lady Arabella and the girls would be betteroff, perhaps, than now, and I sometimes wish, for Frank's sake, thatthe time had come."
The doctor could not now go on rubbing his leg. He was moved tospeak, and declared that, of all events, that was the one which wouldbe furthest from Frank's heart. "I know no son," said he, "who loveshis father more dearly than he does."
"I do believe it," said the squire; "I do believe it. But yet, Icannot but feel that I am in his way."
"No, squire, no; you are in no one's way. You will find yourselfhappy with your son yet, and proud of him. And proud of his wife,too. I hope so, and I think so: I do, indeed, or I should not say so,squire; we will have many a happy day yet together, when we shalltalk of all these things over the dining-room fire at Greshamsbury."
The squire felt it kind in the doctor that he should thus endeavourto comfort him; but he could not understand, and did not inquire, onwhat basis these golden hopes was founded. It was necessary, however,to return to the subject which he had come to discuss. Would thedoctor assist him in preventing this marriage? That was now the onething necessary to be kept in view.
"But, doctor, about the young people; of course they cannot marry,you are aware of that."
"I don't know that exactly."
"Well, doctor, I must say I thought you would feel it."
"Feel what, squire?"
"That,
situated as they are, they ought not to marry."
"That is quite another question. I have said nothing about thateither to you or to anybody else. The truth is, squire, I have neverinterfered in this matter one way or the other; and I have no wish todo so now."
"But should you not interfere? Is not Mary the same to you as yourown child?"
Dr Thorne hardly knew how to answer this. He was aware that hisargument about not interfering was in fact absurd. Mary could notmarry without his interference; and had it been the case that shewas in danger of making an improper marriage, of course he wouldinterfere. His meaning was, that he would not at the present momentexpress any opinion he would not declare against a match whichmight turn out to be in every way desirable; nor, if he spoke infavour of it, could he give his reasons for doing so. Under thesecircumstances, he would have wished to say nothing, could that onlyhave been possible.
But as it was not possible, and as he must say something, he answeredthe squire's last question by asking another. "What is yourobjection, squire?"
"Objection! Why, what on earth would they live on?"
"Then I understand, that if that difficulty were over, you would notrefuse your consent merely because of Mary's birth?"
This was a manner in which the squire had by no means expected tohave the affair presented to him. It seemed so impossible that anysound-minded man should take any but his view of the case, that hehad not prepared himself for argument. There was every objection tohis son marrying Miss Thorne; but the fact of their having no incomebetween them, did certainly justify him in alleging that first.
"But that difficulty can't be got over, doctor. You know, however,that it would be cause of grief to us all to see Frank marry muchbeneath his station that is, I mean, in family. You should not pressme to say this, for you know that I love Mary dearly."
"But, my dear friend, it is necessary. Wounds sometimes must beopened in order that they may be healed. What I mean is this;--and,squire, I'm sure I need not say to you that I hope for an honestanswer,--were Mary Thorne an heiress; had she, for instance, suchwealth as that Miss Dunstable that we hear of; in that case would youobject to the match?"
When the doctor declared that he expected an honest answer the squirelistened with all his ears; but the question, when finished, seemedto have no bearing on the present case.
"Come, squire, speak your mind faithfully. There was some talk onceof Frank's marrying Miss Dunstable; did you mean to object to thatmatch?"
"Miss Dunstable was legitimate; at least, I presume so."
"Oh, Mr Gresham! has it come to that? Miss Dunstable, then, wouldhave satisfied your ideas of high birth?"
Mr Gresham was rather posed, and regretted, at the moment, hisallusion to Miss Dunstable's presumed legitimacy. But he soonrecovered himself. "No," said he, "it would not. And I am willingto admit, as I have admitted before, that the undoubted advantagesarising from wealth are taken by the world as atoning for whatotherwise would be a _mesalliance_. But--"
"You admit that, do you? You acknowledge that as your conviction onthe subject?"
"Yes. But--" The squire was going on to explain the propriety of thisopinion, but the doctor uncivilly would not hear him.
"Then squire, I will not interfere in this matter one way or theother."
"How on earth can such an opinion--"
"Pray excuse me, Mr Gresham; but my mind is now quite made up. It wasvery nearly so before. I will do nothing to encourage Frank, nor willI say anything to discourage Mary."
"That is the most singular resolution that a man of sense like youever came to."
"I can't help it, squire; it is my resolution."
"But what has Miss Dunstable's fortune to do with it?"
"I cannot say that it has anything; but, in this matter, I will notinterfere."
The squire went on for some time, but it was all to no purpose;and at last he left the house, considerably in dudgeon. The onlyconclusion to which he could come was, that Dr Thorne had thought thechance on his niece's behalf too good to be thrown away, and had,therefore, resolved to act in this very singular way.
"I would not have believed it of him, though all Barsetshire had toldme," he said to himself as he entered the great gates; and he went onrepeating the same words till he found himself in his own room. "No,not if all Barsetshire had told me!"
He did not, however, communicate the ill result of his visit to theLady Arabella.
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