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

as to

what she had heard and seen.

 

“Of course, Frank, it must be all nonsense,” she had said; “and you

shouldn’t amuse yourself in such a way.”

 

“Well, but, Guss, come, we have always been friends; don’t let us

quarrel just when you are going to be married.” But Augusta would

make no promise.

 

Frank, when he reached the house, found the countess waiting for him,

sitting in the little drawing-room by herself,—somewhat impatiently.

As he entered he became aware that there was some peculiar gravity

attached to the coming interview. Three persons, his mother, one of

his younger sisters, and the Lady Amelia, each stopped him to let

him know that the countess was waiting; and he perceived that a

sort of guard was kept upon the door to save her ladyship from any

undesirable intrusion.

 

The countess frowned at the moment of his entrance, but soon smoothed

her brow, and invited him to take a chair ready prepared for him

opposite to the elbow of the sofa on which she was leaning. She had a

small table before her, on which was her teacup, so that she was able

to preach at him nearly as well as though she had been ensconced in a

pulpit.

 

“My dear Frank,” said she, in a voice thoroughly suitable to the

importance of the communication, “you have to-day come of age.”

 

Frank remarked that he understood that such was the case, and added

that “that was the reason for all the fuss.”

 

“Yes; you have to-day come of age. Perhaps I should have been glad to

see such an occasion noticed at Greshamsbury with some more suitable

signs of rejoicing.”

 

“Oh, aunt! I think we did it all very well.”

 

“Greshamsbury, Frank, is, or at any rate ought to be, the seat of the

first commoner in Barsetshire.

 

“Well; so it is. I am quite sure there isn’t a better fellow than

father anywhere in the county.”

 

The countess sighed. Her opinion of the poor squire was very

different from Frank’s. “It is no use now,” said she, “looking back

to that which cannot be cured. The first commoner in Barsetshire

should hold a position—I will not of course say equal to that of a

peer.”

 

“Oh dear no; of course not,” said Frank; and a bystander might have

thought that there was a touch of satire in his tone.

 

“No, not equal to that of a peer; but still of very paramount

importance. Of course my first ambition is bound up in Porlock.”

 

“Of course,” said Frank, thinking how very weak was the staff on

which his aunt’s ambition rested; for Lord Porlock’s youthful career

had not been such as to give unmitigated satisfaction to his parents.

 

“Is bound up in Porlock:” and then the countess plumed herself; but

the mother sighed. “And next to Porlock, Frank, my anxiety is about

you.”

 

“Upon my honour, aunt, I am very much obliged. I shall be all right,

you’ll see.”

 

“Greshamsbury, my dear boy, is not now what it used to be.”

 

“Isn’t it?” asked Frank.

 

“No, Frank; by no means. I do not wish to say a word against your

father. It may, perhaps have been his misfortune, rather than his

fault—”

 

“She is always down on the governor; always,” said Frank to himself;

resolving to stick bravely to the side of the house to which he had

elected to belong.

 

“But there is the fact, Frank, too plain to us all; Greshamsbury is

not what it was. It is your duty to restore it to its former

importance.”

 

“My duty!” said Frank, rather puzzled.

 

“Yes, Frank, your duty. It all depends on you now. Of course you know

that your father owes a great deal of money.”

 

Frank muttered something. Tidings had in some shape reached his ear

that his father was not comfortably circumstances as regarded money.

 

“And then, he has sold Boxall Hill. It cannot be expected that Boxall

Hill shall be repurchased, as some horrid man, a railway-maker, I

believe—”

 

“Yes; that’s Scatcherd.”

 

“Well, he has built a house there, I’m told; so I presume that it

cannot be bought back: but it will be your duty, Frank, to pay all

the debts that there are on the property, and to purchase what, at

any rate, will be equal to Boxall Hill.”

 

Frank opened his eyes wide and stared at his aunt, as though doubting

much whether or no she were in her right mind. He pay off the

family debts! He buy up property of four thousand pounds a year!

He remained, however, quite quiet, waiting the elucidation of the

mystery.

 

“Frank, of course you understand me.”

 

Frank was obliged to declare, that just at the present moment he did

not find his aunt so clear as usual.

 

“You have but one line of conduct left you, Frank: your position,

as heir to Greshamsbury, is a good one; but your father has

unfortunately so hampered you with regard to money, that unless you

set the matter right yourself, you can never enjoy that position. Of

course you must marry money.”

 

“Marry money!” said he, considering for the first time that in all

probability Mary Thorne’s fortune would not be extensive. “Marry

money!”

 

“Yes, Frank. I know no man whose position so imperatively demands it;

and luckily for you, no man can have more facility for doing so. In

the first place you are very handsome.”

 

Frank blushed like a girl of sixteen.

 

“And then, as the matter is made plain to you at so early an age,

you are not of course hampered by any indiscreet tie; by any absurd

engagement.”

 

Frank blushed again; and then saying to himself, “How much the old

girl knows about it!” felt a little proud of his passion for Mary

Thorne, and of the declaration he had made to her.

 

“And your connexion with Courcy Castle,” continued the countess, now

carrying up the list of Frank’s advantages to its great climax, “will

make the matter so easy for you, that really, you will hardly have

any difficulty.”

 

Frank could not but say how much obliged he felt to Courcy Castle and

its inmates.

 

“Of course I would not wish to interfere with you in any underhand

way, Frank; but I will tell you what has occurred to me. You have

heard, probably, of Miss Dunstable?”

 

“The daughter of the ointment of Lebanon man?”

 

“And of course you know that her fortune is immense,” continued

the countess, not deigning to notice her nephew’s allusion to the

ointment. “Quite immense when compared with the wants and position of

any commoner. Now she is coming to Courcy Castle, and I wish you to

come and meet her.”

 

“But, aunt, just at this moment I have to read for my degree like

anything. I go up, you know, in October.”

 

“Degree!” said the countess. “Why, Frank, I am talking to you of

your prospects in life, of your future position, of that on which

everything hangs, and you tell me of your degree!”

 

Frank, however, obstinately persisted that he must take his degree,

and that he should commence reading hard at six a.m. to-morrow

morning.

 

“You can read just as well at Courcy Castle. Miss Dunstable will

not interfere with that,” said his aunt, who knew the expediency of

yielding occasionally; “but I must beg you will come over and meet

her. You will find her a most charming young woman, remarkably well

educated I am told, and—”

 

“How old is she?” asked Frank.

 

“I really cannot say exactly,” said the countess; “but it is not, I

imagine, matter of much moment.”

 

“Is she thirty?” asked Frank, who looked upon an unmarried woman of

that age as quite an old maid.

 

“I dare say she may be about that age,” said the countess, who

regarded the subject from a very different point of view.

 

“Thirty!” said Frank out loud, but speaking, nevertheless, as though

to himself.

 

“It is a matter of no moment,” said his aunt, almost angrily. “When

the subject itself is of such vital importance, objections of no

real weight should not be brought into view. If you wish to hold up

your head in the country; if you wish to represent your county in

Parliament, as has been done by your father, your grandfather, and

your great-grandfathers; if you wish to keep a house over your head,

and to leave Greshamsbury to your son after you, you must marry

money. What does it signify whether Miss Dunstable be twenty-eight

or thirty? She has got money; and if you marry her, you may then

consider that your position in life is made.”

 

Frank was astonished at his aunt’s eloquence; but, in spite of

that eloquence, he made up his mind that he would not marry Miss

Dunstable. How could he, indeed, seeing that his troth was already

plighted to Mary Thorne in the presence of his sister? This

circumstance, however, he did not choose to plead to his aunt, so he

recapitulated any other objections that presented themselves to his

mind.

 

In the first place, he was so anxious about his degree that he could

not think of marrying at present; then he suggested that it might be

better to postpone the question till the season’s hunting should be

over; he declared that he could not visit Courcy Castle till he got a

new suit of clothes home from the tailor; and ultimately remembered

that he had a particular engagement to go fly-fishing with Mr Oriel

on that day week.

 

None, however, of these valid reasons were sufficiently potent to

turn the countess from her point.

 

“Nonsense, Frank,” said she, “I wonder that you can talk of

fly-fishing when the property of Greshamsbury is at stake. You will

go with Augusta and myself to Courcy Castle to-morrow.”

 

“To-morrow, aunt!” he said, in the tone in which a condemned criminal

might make his ejaculation on hearing that a very near day had been

named for his execution. “To-morrow!”

 

“Yes, we return to-morrow, and shall be happy to have your company.

My friends, including Miss Dunstable, come on Thursday. I am quite

sure you will like Miss Dunstable. I have settled all that with your

mother, so we need say nothing further about it. And now, good-night,

Frank.”

 

Frank, finding that there was nothing more to be said, took his

departure, and went out to look for Mary. But Mary had gone home with

Janet half an hour since, so he betook himself to his sister

Beatrice.

 

“Beatrice,” said he, “I am to go to Courcy Castle to-morrow.”

 

“So I heard mamma say.”

 

“Well; I only came of age to-day, and I will not begin by running

counter to them. But I tell you what, I won’t stay above a week

at Courcy Castle for all the de Courcys in Barsetshire. Tell me,

Beatrice, did you ever hear of a Miss Dunstable?”