Doctor Thorne, Anthony Trollope [best book reader .txt] 📗
- Author: Anthony Trollope
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the teapot and the cream-jug.
“Mary,” said he, “suppose you were to find out to-morrow morning
that, by some accident, you had become a great heiress, would you be
able to suppress your exultation?”
“The first thing I’d do, would be to pronounce a positive edict that
you should never go to Silverbridge again; at least without a day’s
notice.”
“Well, and what next? what would you do next?”
“The next thing—the next thing would be to send to Paris for a
French bonnet exactly like the one Patience Oriel had on. Did you see
it?”
“Well I can’t say I did; bonnets are invisible now; besides I never
remark anybody’s clothes, except yours.”
“Oh! do look at Miss Oriel’s bonnet the next time you see her. I
cannot understand why it should be so, but I am sure of this—no
English fingers could put together such a bonnet as that; and I am
nearly sure that no French fingers could do it in England.”
“But you don’t care so much about bonnets, Mary!” This the doctor
said as an assertion; but there was, nevertheless, somewhat of a
question involved in it.
“Don’t I, though?” said she. “I do care very much about bonnets;
especially since I saw Patience this morning. I asked how much it
cost—guess.”
“Oh! I don’t know—a pound?”
“A pound, uncle!”
“What! a great deal more? Ten pounds?”
“Oh, uncle.”
“What! more than ten pounds? Then I don’t think even Patience Oriel
ought to give it.”
“No, of course she would not; but, uncle, it really cost a hundred
francs!”
“Oh! a hundred francs; that’s four pounds, isn’t it? Well, and how
much did your last new bonnet cost?”
“Mine! oh, nothing—five and ninepence, perhaps; I trimmed it myself.
If I were left a great fortune, I’d send to Paris to-morrow; no,
I’d go myself to Paris to buy a bonnet, and I’d take you with me to
choose it.”
The doctor sat silent for a while meditating about this, during
which he unconsciously absorbed the tea beside him; and Mary again
replenished his cup.
“Come, Mary,” said he at last, “I’m in a generous mood; and as I am
rather more rich than usual, we’ll send to Paris for a French bonnet.
The going for it must wait a while longer I am afraid.”
“You’re joking.”
“No, indeed. If you know the way to send—that I must confess would
puzzle me; but if you’ll manage the sending, I’ll manage the paying;
and you shall have a French bonnet.”
“Uncle!” said she, looking up at him.
“Oh, I’m not joking; I owe you a present, and I’ll give you that.”
“And if you do, I’ll tell you what I’ll do with it. I’ll cut it into
fragments, and burn them before your face. Why, uncle, what do you
take me for? You’re not a bit nice to-night to make such an offer as
that to me; not a bit, not a bit.” And then she came over from her
seat at the tea-tray and sat down on a footstool close at his knee.
“Because I’d have a French bonnet if I had a large fortune, is that a
reason why I should like one now? if you were to pay four pounds for
a bonnet for me, it would scorch my head every time I put it on.”
“I don’t see that: four pounds would not ruin me. However, I don’t
think you’d look a bit better if you had it; and, certainly, I should
not like to scorch these locks,” and putting his hand upon her
shoulders, he played with her hair.
“Patience has a pony-phaeton, and I’d have one if I were rich; and
I’d have all my books bound as she does; and, perhaps, I’d give fifty
guineas for a dressing-case.”
“Fifty guineas!”
“Patience did not tell me; but so Beatrice says. Patience showed it
to me once, and it is a darling. I think I’d have the dressing-case
before the bonnet. But, uncle—”
“Well?”
“You don’t suppose I want such things?”
“Not improperly. I am sure you do not.”
“Not properly, or improperly; not much, or little. I covet many
things; but nothing of that sort. You know, or should know, that I do
not. Why did you talk of buying a French bonnet for me?”
Dr Thorne did not answer this question, but went on nursing his leg.
“After all,” said he, “money is a fine thing.”
“Very fine, when it is well come by,” she answered; “that is, without
detriment to the heart or soul.”
“I should be a happier man if you were provided for as is Miss Oriel.
Suppose, now, I could give you up to a rich man who would be able to
insure you against all wants?”
“Insure me against all wants! Oh, that would be a man. That would be
selling me, wouldn’t it, uncle? Yes, selling me; and the price you
would receive would be freedom from future apprehensions as regards
me. It would be a cowardly sale for you to make; and then, as to
me—me the victim. No, uncle; you must bear the misery of having to
provide for me—bonnets and all. We are in the same boat, and you
shan’t turn me overboard.”
“But if I were to die, what would you do then?”
“And if I were to die, what would you do? People must be bound
together. They must depend on each other. Of course, misfortunes may
come; but it is cowardly to be afraid of them beforehand. You and I
are bound together, uncle; and though you say these things to tease
me, I know you do not wish to get rid of me.”
“Well, well; we shall win through, doubtless; if not in one way, then
in another.”
“Win through! Of course we shall; who doubts our winning? but,
uncle—”
“But, Mary.”
“Well?”
“You haven’t got another cup of tea, have you?”
“Oh, uncle! you have had five.”
“No, my dear! not five; only four—only four, I assure you; I have
been very particular to count. I had one while I was—”
“Five uncle; indeed and indeed.”
“Well, then, as I hate the prejudice which attaches luck to an odd
number, I’ll have a sixth to show that I am not superstitious.”
While Mary was preparing the sixth jorum, there came a knock at the
door. Those late summonses were hateful to Mary’s ear, for they were
usually the forerunners of a midnight ride through the dark lanes to
some farmer’s house. The doctor had been in the saddle all day, and,
as Janet brought the note into the room, Mary stood up as though to
defend her uncle from any further invasion on his rest.
“A note from the house, miss,” said Janet: now “the house,” in
Greshamsbury parlance, always meant the squire’s mansion.
“No one ill at the house, I hope,” said the doctor, taking the note
from Mary’s hand. “Oh—ah—yes; it’s from the squire—there’s nobody
ill: wait a minute, Janet, and I’ll write a line. Mary, lend me your
desk.”
The squire, anxious as usual for money, had written to ask what
success the doctor had had in negotiating the new loan with Sir
Roger. The fact, however, was, that in his visit at Boxall Hill, the
doctor had been altogether unable to bring on the carpet the matter
of this loan. Subjects had crowded themselves in too quickly during
that interview—those two interviews at Sir Roger’s bedside; and he
had been obliged to leave without even alluding to the question.
“I must at any rate go back now,” said he to himself. So he wrote to
the squire, saying that he was to be at Boxall Hill again on the
following day, and that he would call at the house on his return.
“That’s settled, at any rate,” said he.
“What’s settled?” said Mary.
“Why, I must go to Boxall Hill again to-morrow. I must go early, too,
so we’d better both be off to bed. Tell Janet I must breakfast at
half-past seven.”
“You couldn’t take me, could you? I should so like to see that Sir
Roger.”
“To see Sir Roger! Why, he’s ill in bed.”
“That’s an objection, certainly; but some day, when he’s well, could
not you take me over? I have the greatest desire to see a man like
that; a man who began with nothing and now has more than enough to
buy the whole parish of Greshamsbury.”
“I don’t think you’d like him at all.”
“Why not? I am sure I should; I am sure I should like him, and Lady
Scatcherd, too. I’ve heard you say that she is an excellent woman.”
“Yes, in her way; and he, too, is good in his way; but they are
neither of them in your way: they are extremely vulgar—”
“Oh! I don’t mind that; that would make them more amusing; one
doesn’t go to those sort of people for polished manners.”
“I don’t think you’d find the Scatcherds pleasant acquaintances at
all,” said the doctor, taking his bed-candle, and kissing his niece’s
forehead as he left the room.
When Greek Meets Greek, Then Comes the Tug of War
The doctor, that is our doctor, had thought nothing more of the
message which had been sent to that other doctor, Dr Fillgrave; nor
in truth did the baronet. Lady Scatcherd had thought of it, but her
husband during the rest of the day was not in a humour which allowed
her to remind him that he would soon have a new physician on his
hands; so she left the difficulty to arrange itself, waiting in some
little trepidation till Dr Fillgrave should show himself.
It was well that Sir Roger was not dying for want of his assistance,
for when the message reached Barchester, Dr Fillgrave was some five
or six miles out of town, at Plumstead; and as he did not get back
till late in the evening, he felt himself necessitated to put off his
visit to Boxall Hill till next morning. Had he chanced to have been
made acquainted with that little conversation about the pump, he
would probably have postponed it even yet a while longer.
He was, however, by no means sorry to be summoned to the bedside of
Sir Roger Scatcherd. It was well known at Barchester, and very well
known to Dr Fillgrave, that Sir Roger and Dr Thorne were old friends.
It was very well known to him also, that Sir Roger, in all his bodily
ailments, had hitherto been contented to entrust his safety to the
skill of his old friend. Sir Roger was in his way a great man, and
much talked of in Barchester, and rumour had already reached the
ears of the Barchester Galen, that the great railway contractor was
ill. When, therefore, he received a peremptory summons to go over to
Boxall Hill, he could not but think that some pure light had broken
in upon Sir Roger’s darkness, and taught him at last where to look
for true medical accomplishment.
And then, also, Sir Roger was the richest man in the county, and to
county practitioners a new patient with large means is a godsend; how
much greater a godsend when he be not only acquired, but taken also
from some rival practitioner, need hardly be explained.
Dr Fillgrave, therefore, was somewhat elated when, after a very early
breakfast, he stepped into the
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