Doctor Thorne, Anthony Trollope [best book reader .txt] 📗

got through the perils of winter till at least

the seventh of May.

 

It was early in April, however, that the great doings were to be done

at Greshamsbury. Not exactly on the first. It may be presumed, that

in spite of the practical, common-sense spirit of the age, very few

people do choose to have themselves united on that day. But some

day in the first week of that month was fixed for the ceremony, and

from the end of February all through March, Lady Arabella worked and

strove in a manner that entitled her to profound admiration.

 

It was at last settled that the breakfast should be held in the large

dining-room at Greshamsbury. There was a difficulty about it which

taxed Lady Arabella to the utmost, for, in making the proposition,

she could not but seem to be throwing some slight on the house in

which the heiress had lived. But when the affair was once opened to

Mary, it was astonishing how easy it became.

 

“Of course,” said Mary, “all the rooms in our house would not hold

half the people you are talking about—if they must come.”

 

Lady Arabella looked so beseechingly, nay, so piteously, that Mary

had not another word to say. It was evident that they must all come:

the de Courcys to the fifth generation; the Duke of Omnium himself,

and others in concatenation accordingly.

 

“But will your uncle be angry if we have the breakfast up here? He

has been so very handsome to Frank, that I wouldn’t make him angry

for all the world.”

 

“If you don’t tell him anything about it, Lady Arabella, he’ll think

that it is all done properly. He will never know, if he’s not told,

that he ought to give the breakfast, and not you.”

 

“Won’t he, my dear?” And Lady Arabella looked her admiration for this

very talented suggestion. And so that matter was arranged. The doctor

never knew, till Mary told him some year or so afterwards, that he

had been remiss in any part of his duty.

 

And who was asked to the wedding? In the first place, we have said

that the Duke of Omnium was there. This was, in fact, the one

circumstance that made this wedding so superior to any other that

had ever taken place in that neighbourhood. The Duke of Omnium never

went anywhere; and yet he went to Mary’s wedding! And Mary, when

the ceremony was over, absolutely found herself kissed by a duke.

“Dearest Mary!” exclaimed Lady Arabella, in her ecstasy of joy, when

she saw the honour that was done to her daughter-in-law.

 

“I hope we shall induce you to come to Gatherum Castle soon,” said

the duke to Frank. “I shall be having a few friends there in the

autumn. Let me see; I declare, I have not seen you since you were

good enough to come to my collection. Ha! ha! ha! It wasn’t bad fun,

was it?” Frank was not very cordial with his answer. He had not quite

reconciled himself to the difference of his position. When he was

treated as one of the “collection” at Gatherum Castle, he had not

married money.

 

It would be vain to enumerate all the de Courcys that were there.

There was the earl, looking very gracious, and talking to the

squire about the county. And there was Lord Porlock, looking very

ungracious, and not talking to anybody about anything. And there was

the countess, who for the last week past had done nothing but pat

Frank on the back whenever she could catch him. And there were the

Ladies Alexandrina, Margaretta, and Selina, smiling at everybody.

And the Honourable George, talking in whispers to Frank about his

widow—“Not such a catch as yours, you know; but something extremely

snug;—and have it all my own way, too, old fellow, or I shan’t come

to the scratch.” And the Honourable John prepared to toady Frank

about his string of hunters; and the Lady Amelia, by herself, not

quite contented with these democratic nuptials—“After all, she is so

absolutely nobody; absolutely, absolutely,” she said confidentially

to Augusta, shaking her head. But before Lady Amelia had left

Greshamsbury, Augusta was quite at a loss to understand how there

could be need for so much conversation between her cousin and Mr

Mortimer Gazebee.

 

And there were many more de Courcys, whom to enumerate would be much

too long.

 

And the bishop of the diocese, and Mrs Proudie were there. A hint

had even been given, that his lordship would himself condescend to

perform the ceremony, if this should be wished; but that work had

already been anticipated by a very old friend of the Greshams.

Archdeacon Grantly, the rector of Plumstead Episcopi, had long since

undertaken this part of the business; and the knot was eventually

tied by the joint efforts of himself and Mr Oriel. Mrs Grantly came

with him, and so did Mrs Grantly’s sister, the new dean’s wife. The

dean himself was at the time unfortunately absent at Oxford.

 

And all the Bakers and the Jacksons were there. The last time they

had all met together under the squire’s roof, was on the occasion of

Frank’s coming of age. The present gala doings were carried on a very

different spirit. That had been a very poor affair, but this was

worthy of the best days of Greshamsbury.

 

Occasion also had been taken of this happy moment to make up, or

rather to get rid of the last shreds of the last feud that had so

long separated Dr Thorne from his own relatives. The Thornes of

Ullathorne had made many overtures in a covert way. But our doctor

had contrived to reject them. “They would not receive Mary as their

cousin,” said he, “and I will go nowhere that she cannot go.” But now

all this was altered. Mrs Gresham would certainly be received in any

house in the county. And thus, Mr Thorne of Ullathorne, an amiable,

popular old bachelor, came to the wedding; and so did his maiden

sister, Miss Monica Thorne, than whose no kinder heart glowed through

all Barsetshire.

 

“My dear,” said she to Mary, kissing her, and offering her some

little tribute, “I am very glad to make your acquaintance; very. It

was not her fault,” she added, speaking to herself. “And now that

she will be a Gresham, that need not be any longer be thought of.”

Nevertheless, could Miss Thorne have spoken her inward thoughts out

loud, she would have declared, that Frank would have done better to

have borne his poverty than marry wealth without blood. But then,

there are but few so stanch as Miss Thorne; perhaps none in that

county—always excepting Lady Amelia.

 

And Miss Dunstable, also, was a bridesmaid. “Oh, no” said she, when

asked; “you should have them young and pretty.” But she gave way when

she found that Mary did not flatter her by telling her that she was

either the one or the other. “The truth is,” said Miss Dunstable, “I

have always been a little in love with your Frank, and so I shall do

it for his sake.” There were but four: the other two were the Gresham

twins. Lady Arabella exerted herself greatly in framing hints to

induce Mary to ask some of the de Courcy ladies to do her so much

honour; but on this head Mary would please herself. “Rank,” said she

to Beatrice, with a curl on her lip, “has its drawbacks—and must put

up with them.”

 

And now I find that I have not one page—not half a page—for the

wedding-dress. But what matters? Will it not be all found written in

the columns of the Morning Post?

 

And thus Frank married money, and became a great man. Let us hope

that he will be a happy man. As the time of the story has been

brought down so near to the present era, it is not practicable for

the novelist to tell much of his future career. When I last heard

from Barsetshire, it seemed to be quite settled that he is to take

the place of one of the old members at the next election; and they

say, also, that there is no chance of any opposition. I have heard,

too, that there have been many very private consultations between him

and various gentlemen of the county, with reference to the hunt; and

the general feeling is said to be that the hounds should go to Boxall

Hill.

 

At Boxall Hill the young people established themselves on their

return from the Continent. And that reminds me that one word must be

said of Lady Scatcherd.

 

“You will always stay here with us,” said Mary to her, caressing her

ladyship’s rough hand, and looking kindly into that kind face.

 

But Lady Scatcherd would not consent to this. “I will come and see

you sometimes, and then I shall enjoy myself. Yes, I will come and

see you, and my own dear boy.” The affair was ended by her taking Mrs

Opie Green’s cottage, in order that she might be near the doctor; Mrs

Opie Green having married—somebody.

 

And of whom else must we say a word? Patience, also, of course, got

a husband—or will do so. Dear Patience! it would be a thousand

pities that so good a wife should be lost to the world. Whether Miss

Dunstable will ever be married, or Augusta Gresham, or Mr Moffat, or

any of the tribe of the de Courcys—except Lady Amelia—I cannot say.

They have all of them still their future before them. That Bridget

was married to Thomas—that I am able to assert; for I know that

Janet was much put out by their joint desertion.

 

Lady Arabella has not yet lost her admiration for Mary, and Mary,

in return, behaves admirably. Another event is expected, and her

ladyship is almost as anxious about that as she was about the

wedding. “A matter, you know, of such importance in the county!” she

whispered to Lady de Courcy.

 

Nothing can be more happy than the intercourse between the squire and

his son. What their exact arrangements are, we need not specially

inquire; but the demon of pecuniary embarrassment has lifted his

black wings from the demesne of Greshamsbury.

 

And now we have but one word left for the doctor. “If you don’t

come and dine with me,” said the squire to him, when they found

themselves both deserted, “mind I shall come and dine with you.” And

on this principle they seem to act. Dr Thorne continues to extend

his practice, to the great disgust of Dr Fillgrave; and when Mary

suggested to him that he should retire, he almost boxed her ears. He

knows the way, however, to Boxall Hill as well as he ever did, and is

willing to acknowledge, that the tea there is almost as good as it

ever was at Greshamsbury.

 

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