Doctor Thorne - Anthony Trollope (e novels to read TXT) 📗

make up her mind steadily as to what information should be given, and what should not be given to her coming visitor.

On the next morning, at the appointed hour, Lady Arabella walked down to the doctor’s house. She never walked about the village without making some little disturbance among the inhabitants. With the squire, himself, they were quite familiar, and he could appear and reappear without creating any sensation; but her ladyship had not made herself equally common in men’s sight. Therefore, when she went in at the doctor’s little gate, the fact was known through all Greshamsbury in ten minutes, and before she had left the house, Mrs. Umbleby and Miss Gushing had quite settled between them what was the exact cause of the very singular event.

The doctor, when he had heard what was going to happen, carefully kept out of the way: Mary, therefore, had the pleasure of receiving Lady Arabella alone. Nothing could exceed her ladyship’s affability. Mary thought that it perhaps might have savoured less of condescension; but then, on this subject, Mary was probably prejudiced. Lady Arabella smiled and simpered, and asked after the doctor, and the cat, and Janet, and said everything that could have been desired by anyone less unreasonable than Mary Thorne.

“And now, Mary, I’ll tell you why I have called.” Mary bowed her head slightly, as much to say, that she would be glad to receive any information that Lady Arabella could give her on that subject. “Of course you know that Beatrice is going to be married very shortly.”

Mary acknowledged that she had heard so much.

“Yes: we think it will be in September⁠—early in September⁠—and that is coming very soon now. The poor girl is anxious that you should be at her wedding.” Mary turned slightly red; but she merely said, and that somewhat too coldly, that she was much indebted to Beatrice for her kindness.

“I can assure you, Mary, that she is very fond of you, as much so as ever; and so, indeed, am I, and all of us are so. You know that Mr. Gresham was always your friend.”

“Yes, he always was, and I am grateful to Mr. Gresham,” answered Mary. It was well for Lady Arabella that she had her temper under command, for had she spoken her mind out there would have been very little chance left for reconciliation between her and Mary.

“Yes, indeed he was; and I think we all did what little we could to make you welcome at Greshamsbury, Mary, till those unpleasant occurrences took place.”

“What occurrences, Lady Arabella?”

“And Beatrice is so very anxious on this point,” said her ladyship, ignoring for the moment Mary’s question. “You two have been so much together, that she feels she cannot be quite happy if you are not near her when she is being married.”

“Dear Beatrice!” said Mary, warmed for the moment to an expression of genuine feeling.

“She came to me yesterday, begging that I would waive any objection I might have to your being there. I have made her no answer yet. What answer do you think I ought to make her?”

Mary was astounded at this question, and hesitated in her reply. “What answer ought you to make her?” she said.

“Yes, Mary. What answer do you think I ought to give? I wish to ask you the question, as you are the person the most concerned.”

Mary considered for a while, and then did give her opinion on the matter in a firm voice. “I think you should tell Beatrice, that as you cannot at present receive me cordially in your house, it will be better that you should not be called on to receive me at all.”

This was certainly not the sort of answer that Lady Arabella expected, and she was now somewhat astounded in her turn. “But, Mary,” she said, “I should be delighted to receive you cordially if I could do so.”

“But it seems you cannot, Lady Arabella; and so there must be an end of it.”

“Oh, but I do not know that:” and she smiled her sweetest smile. “I do not know that. I want to put an end to all this ill-feeling if I can. It all depends upon one thing, you know.”

“Does it, Lady Arabella?”

“Yes, upon one thing. You won’t be angry if I ask you another question⁠—eh, Mary?”

“No; at least I don’t think I will.”

“Is there any truth in what we hear about your being engaged to Frank?”

Mary made no immediate answer to this, but sat quite silent, looking Lady Arabella in the face; not but that she had made up her mind as to what answer she would give, but the exact words failed her at the moment.

“Of course you must have heard of such a rumour,” continued Lady Arabella.

“Oh, yes, I have heard of it.”

“Yes, and you have noticed it, and I must say very properly. When you went to Boxall Hill, and before that with Miss Oriel’s to her aunt’s, I thought you behaved extremely well.” Mary felt herself glow with indignation, and began to prepare words that should be sharp and decisive. “But, nevertheless, people talk; and Frank, who is still quite a boy” (Mary’s indignation was not softened by this allusion to Frank’s folly), “seems to have got some nonsense in his head. I grieve to say it, but I feel myself in justice bound to do so, that in this matter he has not acted as well as you have done. Now, therefore, I merely ask you whether there is any truth in the report. If you tell me that there is none, I shall be quite contented.”

“But it is altogether true, Lady Arabella; I am engaged to Frank Gresham.”

“Engaged to be married to him?”

“Yes; engaged to be married to him.”

What was to say or do now? Nothing could be more plain, more decided, or less embarrassed with doubt than Mary’s declaration. And as she made it she looked her visitor full in the face, blushing indeed, for her cheeks were now suffused as well