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

ride over to Harry Baker, so he put Mr. Gazebee off till the half-hour before dinner⁠—or else the half-hour after tea.

On the previous day he had received a letter from Miss Dunstable, which he had hitherto read but once. His mother had interrupted him as he was about to refer to it; and now, as his father’s nag was being saddled⁠—he was still prudent in saving the black horse⁠—he again took it out.

Miss Dunstable had written in an excellent humour. She was in great distress about the oil of Lebanon, she said. “I have been trying to get a purchaser for the last two years; but my lawyer won’t let me sell it, because the would-be purchasers offer a thousand pounds or so less than the value. I would give ten to be rid of the bore; but I am as little able to act myself as Sancho was in his government. The oil of Lebanon! Did you hear anything of it when you were in those parts? I thought of changing the name to ‘London particular;’ but my lawyer says the brewers would bring an action against me.

“I was going down to your neighbourhood⁠—to your friend the duke’s, at least. But I am prevented by my poor doctor, who is so weak that I must take him to Malvern. It is a great bore; but I have the satisfaction that I do my duty by him!

“Your cousin George is to be married at last. So I hear, at least. He loves wisely, if not well; for his widow has the name of being prudent and fairly well to do in the world. She has got over the caprices of her youth. Dear Aunt de Courcy will be so delighted. I might perhaps have met her at Gatherum Castle. I do so regret it.

“Mr. Moffat has turned up again. We all thought you had finally extinguished him. He left a card the other day, and I have told the servant always to say that I am at home, and that you are with me. He is going to stand for some borough in the west of Ireland. He’s used to shillelaghs by this time.

“By the by, I have a cadeau for a friend of yours. I won’t tell you what it is, nor permit you to communicate the fact. But when you tell me that in sending it I may fairly congratulate her on having so devoted a slave as you, it shall be sent.

“If you have nothing better to do at present, do come and see my invalid at Malvern. Perhaps you might have a mind to treat for the oil of Lebanon. I’ll give you all the assistance I can in cheating my lawyers.”

There was not much about Mary in this; but still, the little that was said made him again declare that neither father nor mother should move him from his resolution. “I will write to her and say that she may send her present when she pleases. Or I will run down to Malvern for a day. It will do me good to see her.” And so resolved, he rode away to Mill Hill, thinking, as he went, how he would put the matter to Harry Baker.

Harry was at home; but we need not describe the whole interview. Had Frank been asked beforehand, he would have declared, that on no possible subject could he have had the slightest hesitation in asking Harry any question, or communicating to him any tidings. But when the time came, he found that he did hesitate much. He did not want to ask his friend if he should be wise to marry Mary Thorne. Wise or not, he was determined to do that. But he wished to be quite sure that his mother was wrong in saying that all the world would dissuade him from it. Miss Dunstable, at any rate, did not do so.

At last, seated on a stile at the back of the Mill Hill stables, while Harry stood close before him with both his hands in his pockets, he did get his story told. It was by no means the first time that Harry Baker had heard about Mary Thorne, and he was not, therefore, so surprised as he might have been, had the affair been new to him. And thus, standing there in the position we have described, did Mr. Baker, junior, give utterance to such wisdom as was in him on this subject.

“You see, Frank, there are two sides to every question; and, as I take it, fellows are so apt to go wrong because they are so fond of one side, they won’t look at the other. There’s no doubt about it, Lady Arabella is a very clever woman, and knows what’s what; and there’s no doubt about this either, that you have a very ticklish hand of cards to play.”

“I’ll play it straightforward; that’s my game” said Frank.

“Well and good, my dear fellow. That’s the best game always. But what is straightforward? Between you and me, I fear there’s no doubt that your father’s property has got into a deuce of a mess.”

“I don’t see that that has anything to do with it.”

“Yes, but it has. If the estate was all right, and your father could give you a thousand a year to live on without feeling it, and if your eldest child would be cocksure of Greshamsbury, it might be very well that you should please yourself as to marrying at once. But that’s not the case; and yet Greshamsbury is too good a card to be flung away.”

“I could fling it away tomorrow,” said Frank.

“Ah! you think so,” said Harry the Wise. “But if you were to hear tomorrow that Sir Louis Scatcherd were master of the whole place, and be d⁠⸺ to him, you would feel very uncomfortable.” Had Harry known how near Sir Louis was to his last struggle, he would not have spoken of him in this manner. “That’s all