Doctor Thorne, Anthony Trollope [an ebook reader .TXT] 📗

no effect on me. Indeed,” said he, sighing as he spoke, but still relieving himself by the very sigh, “it could have had no effect had I learned it ever so soon.”

“I should have told you before,” said the father; “certainly I ought to have done so.”

“It would have been no good,” said Frank. “Ah, sir, tell me this: who were Miss Dunstable’s parents? What was that fellow Moffat’s family?”

This was perhaps cruel of Frank. The squire, however, made no answer to the question. “I have thought it right to tell you,” said he. “I leave all commentary to yourself. I need not tell you what your mother will think.”

“What did she think of Miss Dunstable’s birth?” said he, again more bitterly than before. “No, sir,” he continued, after a further pause. “All that can make no change; none at any rate now. It can’t make my love less, even if it could have prevented it. Nor, even, could it do so⁠—which it can’t the least, not in the least⁠—but could it do so, it could not break my engagement. I am now engaged to Mary Thorne.”

And then he again repeated his question, asking for his father’s advice under the present circumstances. The conversation was a very long one, as long as to disarrange all Lady Arabella’s plans. She had determined to take her son most stringently to task that very evening; and with this object had ensconced herself in the small drawing-room which had formerly been used for a similar purpose by the august countess herself. Here she now sat, having desired Augusta and Beatrice, as well as the twins, to beg Frank to go to her as soon as he should come out of the dining-room. Poor lady! there she waited till ten o’clock⁠—tealess. There was not much of the Bluebeard about the squire; but he had succeeded in making it understood through the household that he was not to be interrupted by messages from his wife during the postprandial hour, which, though no toper, he loved so well.

As a period of twelve months will now have to be passed over, the upshot of this long conversation must be told in as few words as possible. The father found it impracticable to talk his son out of his intended marriage; indeed, he hardly attempted to do so by any direct persuasion. He explained to him that it was impossible that he should marry at once, and suggested that he, Frank, was very young.

“You married, sir, before you were one-and-twenty,” said Frank. Yes, and repented before I was two-and-twenty. So did not say the squire.

He suggested that Mary should have time to ascertain what would be her uncle’s wishes, and ended by inducing Frank to promise, that after taking his degree in October he would go abroad for some months, and that he would not indeed return to Greshamsbury till he was three-and-twenty.

“He may perhaps forget her,” said the father to himself, as this agreement was made between them.

“He thinks that I shall forget her,” said Frank to himself at the same time; “but he does not know me.”

When Lady Arabella at last got hold of her son she found that the time for her preaching was utterly gone by. He told her, almost with sangfroid, what his plans were; and when she came to understand them, and to understand also what had taken place at Boxall Hill, she could not blame the squire for what he had done. She also said to herself, more confidently than the squire had done, that Frank would quite forget Mary before the year was out. “Lord Buckish,” said she to herself, rejoicingly, “is now with the ambassador at Paris”⁠—Lord Buckish was her nephew⁠—“and with him Frank will meet women that are really beautiful⁠—women of fashion. When with Lord Buckish he will soon forget Mary Thorne.”

But not on this account did she change her resolve to follow up to the furthest point her hostility to the Thornes. She was fully enabled now to do so, for Dr. Fillgrave was already reinstalled at Greshamsbury as her medical adviser.

One other short visit did Frank pay to Boxall Hill, and one interview had he with Dr. Thorne. Mary told him all she knew of her own sad history, and was answered only by a kiss⁠—a kiss absolutely not in any way by her to be avoided; the first, the only one, that had ever yet reached her lips from his. And then he went away.

The doctor told him all the story. “Yes,” said Frank, “I knew it all before. Dear Mary, dearest Mary! Don’t you, doctor, teach yourself to believe that I shall forget her.” And then also he went his way from him⁠—went his way also from Greshamsbury, and was absent for the full period of his allotted banishment⁠—twelve months, namely, and a day.

XXXI The Small End of the Wedge

Frank Gresham was absent from Greshamsbury twelve months and a day: a day is always added to the period of such absences, as shown in the history of Lord Bateman and other noble heroes. We need not detail all the circumstances of his banishment, all the details of the compact that was made. One detail of course was this, that there should be no corresponding; a point to which the squire found some difficulty in bringing his son to assent.

It must not be supposed that Mary Thorne or the doctor were in any way parties to, or privy to these agreements. By no means. The agreements were drawn out, and made, and signed, and sealed at Greshamsbury, and were known of nowhere else. The reader must not imagine that Lady Arabella was prepared to give up her son, if only his love could remain constant for one year. Neither did Lady Arabella consent to any such arrangement, nor did the squire. It was settled rather in this wise: that Frank should be subjected to no torturing process, pestered to give no promises,