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

If sitting with dignity in his hired carriage, and stepping with authority up the big front steps, would have done anything, Dr. Fillgrave might have done much. Lady Arabella was greatly taken with his looks when he first came to her, and it was only when she by degrees perceived that the symptoms, which she knew so well, did not yield to him that she began to doubt those looks.

After a while Dr. Fillgrave himself suggested Dr. Century. “Not that I fear anything, Lady Arabella,” said he⁠—lying hugely, for he did fear; fear both for himself and for her. “But Dr. Century has great experience, and in such a matter, when the interests are so important, one cannot be too safe.”

So Dr. Century came and toddled slowly into her ladyship’s room. He did not say much; he left the talking to his learned brother, who certainly was able to do that part of the business. But Dr. Century, though he said very little, looked very grave, and by no means quieted Lady Arabella’s mind. She, as she saw the two putting their heads together, already had misgivings that she had done wrong. She knew that she could not be safe without Dr. Thorne at her bedside, and she already felt that she had exercised a most injudicious courage in driving him away.

“Well, doctor?” said she, as soon as Dr. Century had toddled downstairs to see the squire.

“Oh! we shall be all right, Lady Arabella; all right, very soon. But we must be careful, very careful; I am glad I’ve had Century here, very; but there’s nothing to alter; little or nothing.”

There were but few words spoken between Dr. Century and the squire; but few as they were, they frightened Mr. Gresham. When Dr. Fillgrave came down the grand stairs, a servant waited at the bottom to ask him also to go to the squire. Now there never had been much cordiality between the squire and Dr. Fillgrave, though Mr. Gresham had consented to take a preventative pill from his hands, and the little man therefore swelled himself out somewhat more than ordinarily as he followed the servant.

“Dr. Fillgrave,” said the squire, at once beginning the conversation, “Lady Arabella, is, I fear, in danger?”

“Well, no; I hope not in danger, Mr. Gresham. I certainly believe I may be justified in expressing a hope that she is not in danger. Her state is, no doubt, rather serious⁠—rather serious⁠—as Dr. Century has probably told you;” and Dr. Fillgrave made a bow to the old man, who sat quiet in one of the dining-room armchairs.

“Well, doctor,” said the squire, “I have not any grounds on which to doubt your judgement.”

Dr. Fillgrave bowed, but with the stiffest, slightest inclination which a head could possibly make. He rather thought that Mr. Gresham had no ground for doubting his judgement.

“Nor do I.”

The doctor bowed, and a little, a very little less stiffly.

“But, doctor, I think that something ought to be done.”

The doctor this time did his bowing merely with his eyes and mouth. The former he closed for a moment, the latter he pressed; and then decorously rubbed his hands one over the other.

“I am afraid, Dr. Fillgrave, that you and my friend Thorne are not the best friends in the world.”

“No, Mr. Gresham, no; I may go so far as to say we are not.”

“Well, I am sorry for it⁠—”

“Perhaps, Mr. Gresham, we need hardly discuss it; but there have been circumstances⁠—”

“I am not going to discuss anything, Dr. Fillgrave; I say I am sorry for it, because I believe that prudence will imperatively require Lady Arabella to have Doctor Thorne back again. Now, if you would not object to meet him⁠—”

“Mr. Gresham, I beg pardon; I beg pardon, indeed; but you must really excuse me. Doctor Thorne has, in my estimation⁠—”

“But, Doctor Fillgrave⁠—”

“Mr. Gresham, you really must excuse me; you really must, indeed. Anything else that I could do for Lady Arabella, I should be most happy to do; but after what has passed, I cannot meet Doctor Thorne; I really cannot. You must not ask me to do so; Mr. Gresham. And, Mr. Gresham,” continued the doctor, “I did understand from Lady Arabella that his⁠—that is, Dr. Thorne’s⁠—conduct to her ladyship had been such⁠—so very outrageous, I may say, that⁠—that⁠—that⁠—of course, Mr. Gresham, you know best; but I did think that Lady Arabella herself was quite unwilling to see Doctor Thorne again;” and Dr. Fillgrave looked very big, and very dignified, and very exclusive.

The squire did not ask again. He had no warrant for supposing that Lady Arabella would receive Dr. Thorne if he did come; and he saw that it was useless to attempt to overcome the rancour of a man so pigheaded as the little Galen now before him. Other propositions were then broached, and it was at last decided that assistance should be sought for from London, in the person of the great Sir Omicron Pie.

Sir Omicron came, and Drs. Fillgrave and Century were there to meet him. When they all assembled in Lady Arabella’s room, the poor woman’s heart almost sank within her⁠—as well it might, at such a sight. If she could only reconcile it with her honour, her consistency, with her high de Courcy principles, to send once more for Dr. Thorne. Oh, Frank! Frank! to what misery your disobedience brought your mother!

Sir Omicron and the lesser provincial lights had their consultation, and the lesser lights went their way to Barchester and Silverbridge, leaving Sir Omicron to enjoy the hospitality of Greshamsbury.

“You should have Thorne back here, Mr. Gresham,” said Sir Omicron, almost in a whisper, when they were quite alone. “Doctor Fillgrave is a very good man, and so is Dr. Century; very good, I am sure. But Thorne has known her ladyship so long.” And then, on the following morning, Sir Omicron also went his way.

And then there was a scene between the squire and her ladyship. Lady Arabella had given herself credit for great good generalship when she found that the squire had been induced to take that pill. We have all heard of the little end of the wedge, and