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

be badgered in lieu of his father. At his age it was possible to make it appear a thing desirable, if not necessary⁠—on account of the importance conveyed⁠—to sit day after day in the chambers of Messrs Slow and Bideawhile, and hear musty law talk, and finger dusty law parchments. The squire had made many visits to Messrs Slow and Bideawhile, and he knew better. Frank had not hitherto been there on his own bottom, and thus he fell easily into the trap.

Mr. Oriel was also going to London, and this was another reason for sending Frank. Mr. Oriel had business of great importance, which it was quite necessary that he should execute before his marriage. How much of this business consisted in going to his tailor, buying a wedding-ring, and purchasing some other more costly present for Beatrice, we need not here inquire. But Mr. Oriel was quite on Lady Arabella’s side with reference to this mad engagement, and as Frank and he were now fast friends, some good might be done in that way. “If we all caution him against it, he can hardly withstand us all!” said Lady Arabella to herself.

The matter was broached to Frank on the Saturday evening, and settled between them all the same night. Nothing, of course, was at that moment said about Mary; but Lady Arabella was too full of the subject to let him go to London without telling him that Mary was ready to recede if only he would allow her to do so. About eleven o’clock, Frank was sitting in his own room, conning over the difficulties of the situation⁠—thinking of his father’s troubles, and his own position⁠—when he was roused from his reverie by a slight tap at the door.

“Come in,” said he, somewhat loudly. He thought it was one of his sisters, who were apt to visit him at all hours and for all manner of reasons; and he, though he was usually gentle to them, was not at present exactly in a humour to be disturbed.

The door gently opened, and he saw his mother standing hesitating in the passage.

“Can I come in, Frank?” said she.

“Oh, yes, mother; by all means:” and then, with some surprise marked in his countenance, he prepared a seat for her. Such a visit as this from Lady Arabella was very unusual; so much so, that he had probably not seen her in his own room since the day when he first left school. He had nothing, however, to be ashamed of; nothing to conceal, unless it were an open letter from Miss Dunstable which he had in his hand when she entered, and which he somewhat hurriedly thrust into his pocket.

“I wanted to say a few words to you, Frank, before you start for London about this business.” Frank signified by a gesture, that he was quite ready to listen to her.

“I am so glad to see your father putting the matter into your hands. You are younger than he is; and then⁠—I don’t know why, but somehow your father has never been a good man of business⁠—everything has gone wrong with him.”

“Oh, mother! do not say anything against him.”

“No, Frank, I will not; I do not wish it. Things have been unfortunate, certainly. Ah me! I little thought when I married⁠—but I don’t mean to complain⁠—I have excellent children, and I ought to be thankful for that.”

Frank began to fear that no good could be coming when his mother spoke in that strain. “I will do the best I can,” said he, “up in town. I can’t help thinking myself that Mr. Gazebee might have done as well, but⁠—”

“Oh, dear no; by no means. In such cases the principal must show himself. Besides, it is right you should know how matters stand. Who is so much interested in it as you are? Poor Frank! I so often feel for you when I think how the property has dwindled.”

“Pray do not mind me, mother. Why should you talk of it as my matter while my father is not yet forty-five? His life, so to speak, is as good as mine. I can do very well without it; all I want is to be allowed to settle to something.”

“You mean a profession.”

“Yes; something of that sort.”

“They are so slow, dear Frank. You, who speak French so well⁠—I should think my brother might get you in as attaché to some embassy.”

“That wouldn’t suit me at all,” said Frank.

“Well, we’ll talk about that some other time. But I came about something else, and I do hope you will hear me.”

Frank’s brow again grew black, for he knew that his mother was about to say something which it would be disagreeable for him to hear.

“I was with Mary, yesterday.”

“Well, mother?”

“Don’t be angry with me, Frank; you can’t but know that the fate of an only son must be a subject of anxiety to a mother.” Ah! how singularly altered was Lady Arabella’s tone since first she had taken upon herself to discuss the marriage prospects of her son! Then how autocratic had she been as she sent him away, bidding him, with full command, to throw himself into the golden embraces of Miss Dunstable! But now, how humble, as she came suppliantly to his room, craving that she might have leave to whisper into his ears a mother’s anxious fears! Frank had laughed at her stern behests, though he had half obeyed them; but he was touched to the heart by her humility.

He drew his chair nearer to her, and took her by the hand. But she, disengaging hers, parted the hair from off his forehead, and kissed his brow. “Oh, Frank,” she said, “I have been so proud of you, am still so proud of you. It will send me to my grave if I see you sink below your proper position. Not that it will be your fault. I am sure it will not be your fault. Only circumstanced as you are, you should be doubly, trebly,