Dr Thorne (71 page)

The doctor's brow grew black, and promised no help to the poor wretch. Bad in every way, wretched, selfish, sensual, unfeeling, purse-proud, ignorant as Sir Louis Scatcherd was, still, there was left to him the power of feeling something like sincere love. It may be presumed that he did love Mary Thorne, and that he was at the time earnest in declaring, that if she could be given to him, he would endeavour to live according to her uncle's counsel. It was only a trifle he asked; but, alas! that trifle could not be vouchsafed.

‘I should much approve of your getting married, but I do not know how I can help you.'

‘Of course, I mean to Miss Mary: I do love her; I really do, Dr Thorne.'

‘It is quite impossible, Sir Louis; quite. You do my niece much honour; but I am able to answer for her, positively, that such a proposition is quite out of the question.'

‘Look here now, Dr Thorne; anything in the way of settlements – '

‘I will not hear a word on the subject: you are very welcome to the use of my house as long as it may suit you to remain here; but I must insist that my niece shall not be troubled on this matter.'

‘Do you mean to say she's in love with that young Gresham?'

This was too much for the doctor's patience. ‘Sir Louis,' said he, ‘I can forgive you much for your father's sake. I can also forgive something on the score of your own ill-health. But you ought to know, you ought by this time to have learnt, that there are some things which a man cannot forgive. I will not talk to you about my niece; and remember this, also, I will not have her troubled by you': and, so saying, the doctor left him.

On the next day the baronet was sufficiently recovered to be able to resume his braggadocio airs. He swore at Janet; insisted on being served by his own man; demanded in a loud voice, but in vain, that his liqueur-case should be restored to him; and desired that post-horses might be ready for him on the morrow. On that
day he got up and ate his dinner in his bedroom. On the next morning he countermanded the horses, informing the doctor that he did so because he had a little bit of business to transact with Squire Gresham before he left the place! With some difficulty, the doctor made him understand that the squire would not see him on business; and it was at last decided, that Mr Gazebee should be invited to call on him at the doctor's house; and this Mr Gazebee agreed to do, in order to prevent the annoyance of having the baronet up at Greshamsbury.

On this day, the evening before Mr Gazebee's visit, Sir Louis condescended to come down to dinner. He dined, however,
tête-à-tête
with the doctor. Mary was not there, nor was anything said as to her absence. Sir Louis Scatcherd never set eyes upon her again.

He bore himself very arrogantly on that evening, having resumed the airs and would-be dignity which he thought belonged to him as a man of rank and property. In his periods of low spirits, he was abject and humble enough; abject, and fearful of the lamentable destiny which at these moments he believed to be in store for him. But it was one of the peculiar symptoms of his state, that as he partially recovered his bodily health, the tone of his mind recovered itself also, and his fears for the time were relieved.

There was very little said between him and the doctor that evening. The doctor sat guarding the wine, and thinking when he should have his house to himself again. Sir Louis sat moody; every now and then uttering some impertinence as to the Greshams and the Greshamsbury property, and, at an early hour, allowed Joe to put him to bed.

The horses were ordered on the next day for three, and, at two, Mr Gazebee came to the house. He had never been there before, nor had he ever met Dr Thorne except at the squire's dinner. On this occasion he asked only for the baronet.

‘Ah! ah! I'm glad you're come, Mr Gazebee; very glad,' said Sir Louis; acting the part of the rich, great man with all the power he had. ‘I want to ask you a few questions so as to make it all clear sailing between us.'

‘As you have asked to see me, I have come, Sir Louis,' said the other, putting on much dignity as he spoke. ‘But would it not be better that any business there may be should be done among the lawyers?'

‘The lawyers are very well, I dare say; but when a man has so large a stake at interest as I have in this Greshamsbury property, why, you see, Mr Gazebee, he feels a little inclined to look after it himself. Now, do you know, Mr Gazebee, how much it is that Mr Gresham owes me?'

Mr Gazebee, of course, did know very well; but he was not going to discuss the subject with Sir Louis if he could help it.

‘Whatever claim your father's estate may have on that of Mr Gresham is, as far as I understand, vested in Dr Thorne's hands as trustee. I am inclined to believe that you have not yourself at present any claim on Greshamsbury. The interest, as it becomes due, is paid to Dr Thorne; and if I may be allowed to make a suggestion, I would say that it will not be expedient to make any change in that arrangement till the property shall come into your own hands.'

‘I differ from you entirely, Mr Gazebee;
in toto
, as we used to say at Eton. What you mean to say is this – I can't go to law with Mr Gresham; I'm not so sure of that; but perhaps not. But I can compel Dr Thorne to look after my interests. I can force him to foreclose. And, to tell you the truth, Gazebee, unless some arrangement is proposed to me which I shall think advantageous, I shall do so at once. There is near a hundred thousand pounds owing to me; yes, to me. Thorne is only a name in the matter. The money is my money; and, by——, I mean to look after it.'

‘Have you any doubt, Sir Louis, as to the money being secure?'

‘Yes, I have. It isn't so easy to have a hundred thousand pounds secured. The squire is a poor man, and I don't choose to allow a poor man to owe me such a sum as that. Besides, I mean to invest it in land. I tell you fairly, therefore, I shall foreclose.'

Mr Gazebee, using all the perspicuity which his professional education had left to him, tried to make Sir Louis understand that he had no power to do anything of the kind.

‘No power! Mr Gresham shall see whether I have no power. When a man has a hundred thousand pounds owing to him he ought to have some power; and, as I take it, he has. But we will see. Perhaps you know Finnie; do you?'

Mr Gazebee, with a good deal of scorn in his face,.said that he had not that pleasure. Mr Finnie was not in his line.

‘Well, you will know him then, and you'll find he's sharp
enough; that is, unless I have some offer made to me that I may choose to accept.' Mr Gazebee declared that he was not instructed to make any offer, and so he took his leave.

On that afternoon, Sir Louis went off to Boxall Hill, transferring the miserable task of superintending his self-destruction from the shoulders of the doctor to those of his mother. Of Lady Scatcherd, the baronet took no account in his proposed sojourn in the country, nor did he take much of the doctor in leaving Greshamsbury. He again wrapped himself in his furs, and, with tottering steps, climbed up into the barouche which was to carry him away.

‘Is my man up behind?' he said to Janet, while the doctor was standing at the little front garden-gate, making his adieux.

‘No, sir, he's not up yet,' said Janet, respectfully.

‘Then send him out, will you? I can't lose my time waiting here all day.'

‘I shall come over to Boxall Hill and see you,' said the doctor, whose heart softened towards the man, in spite of his brutality, as the hour of his departure came.

‘I shall be happy to see you if you like to come, of course; that is, in the way of visiting, and that sort of thing. As for doctoring, if I want any I shall send for Fillgrave.' Such were his last words as the carriage, with a rush, went off from the door.

The doctor, as he re-entered the house, could not avoid smiling, for he thought of Dr Fillgrave's last patient at Boxall Hill. ‘It's a question to me,' said he to himself, ‘whether Dr Fillgrave will ever be induced to make another visit to that house, even with the object of rescuing a baronet out of my hands.'

‘He's gone; isn't he, uncle?' said Mary, coming out of her room.

‘Yes, my dear; he's gone, poor fellow!'

‘He may be a poor fellow, uncle; but he's a very disagreeable inmate in a house. I have not had any dinner these two days.'

‘And I haven't had what can be called a cup of tea since he's been in the house. But I'll make up for that tonight.'

T
HERE
is a mode of novel-writing which used to be much in vogue, but which has now gone out of fashion. It is, nevertheless, one which is very expressive when in good hands, and which enables the author to tell his story, or some portion of his story, with more natural trust than any other, I mean that of familiar letters. I trust I shall be excused if I attempt it as regards this one chapter; though, it may be, that I shall break down and fall into commonplace narrative, even before the one chapter be completed. The correspondents are the Lady Amelia de Courcy and Miss Gresham. I, of course, give precedence to the higher rank, but the first epistle originated with the latter-named young lady. Let me hope that they will explain themselves.

‘Miss Gresham to Lady Amelia de Courcy

‘G
RESHAMSBURY
H
OUSE
,
June
, 185–

‘M
Y DEAREST
A
MELIA
,

‘I wish to consult you on a subject which, as you will perceive, is of a most momentous nature. You know how much reliance I place in your judgement and knowledge of what is proper, and, therefore, I write to you before speaking to any other living person on the subject: not even to mamma; for, although her judgement is good too, she has so many cares and troubles, that it is natural that it should be a little warped when the interests of her children are concerned. Now that it is all over, I feel that it may possibly have been so in the case of Mr Moffat.

‘You are aware that Mr Mortimer Gazebee is now staying here, and that he has been here for nearly two months. He
is engaged in managing poor papa's affairs, and mamma, who likes him very much, says that he is a most excellent man of business. Of course, you know that he is the junior partner in the very old firm of Gumption, Gazebee & Gazebee, who, I understand, do not undertake any business at all, except what comes to them from peers, or commoners of the very highest class.

‘I soon perceived, dearest Amelia, that Mr Gazebee paid me more than ordinary attention, and I immediately became very guarded in my manner. I certainly liked Mr Gazebee from the first. His manners are quite excellent, his conduct to mamma is charming, and, as regards myself, I must say that there has been nothing in his behaviour of which even
you
could complain. He has never attempted the slightest familiarity, and I will do him the justice to say, that, though he has been very attentive, he has also been very respectful.

‘I must confess that, for the last three weeks, I have thought that he meant something. I might, perhaps, have done more to repel him; or I might have consulted you earlier as to the propriety of keeping altogether out of his way. But you know, Amelia, how often these things lead to nothing, and though I thought all along that Mr Gazebee was in earnest, I hardly liked to say anything about it even to you till I was quite certain. If you had advised me, you know, to accept his offer, and if, after that, he had never made it, I should have felt so foolish.

‘But now he has made it. He came to me yesterday just before dinner, in the little drawing-room, and told me, in the most delicate manner, in words that even you could not but have approved, that his highest ambition was to be thought worthy of my regard, and that he felt for me the warmest love, and the most profound admiration, and the deepest respect. You may say, Amelia, that he is only an attorney, and I believe that he is an attorney; but I am sure you would have esteemed him had you heard the very delicate way in which he expressed his sentiments.

‘Something had given me a presentiment of what he was going to do when I saw him come into the room, so that I
was on my guard. I tried very hard to show no emotion; but I suppose I was a little flurried, as I once detected myself calling him Mr Mortimer: his name, you know, is Mortimer Gazebee. I ought not to have done so, certainly; but it was not so bad as if I had called him Mortimer without the Mr, was it? I don't think there could possibly be a prettier Christian name than Mortimer. Well, Amelia, I allowed him to express himself without interruption. He once attempted to take my hand; but even this was done without any assumption of familiarity; and when he saw that I would not permit it, he drew back, and fixed his eyes on the ground as though he were ashamed even of that.

‘Of course, I had to give him an answer; and though I had expected that something of this sort would take place, I had not made up my mind on the subject. I would not certainly, under any circumstances, accept him without consulting you. If I really disliked him, of course there would be no doubt; but I can't say, dearest Amelia, that I do absolutely dislike him; and I really think that we should make each other very happy, if the marriage were suitable as regarded both our positions.