The Doctor Hears Something to His Advantage
Sir Louis Scatcherd had told his mother that he was rather out of
sorts, and when he reached Boxall Hill it certainly did not appear
that he had given any exaggerated statement of his own maladies. He
certainly was a good deal out of sorts. He had had more than one
attack of delirium tremens since his father's death, and had almost
been at death's door.
Nothing had been said about this by Dr Thorne at Boxall Hill; but
he was by no means ignorant of his ward's state. Twice he had gone
up to London to visit him; twice he had begged him to go down into
the country and place himself under his mother's care. On the last
occasion, the doctor had threatened him with all manner of pains and
penalties: with pains, as to his speedy departure from this world and
all its joys; and with penalties, in the shape of poverty if that
departure should by any chance be retarded. But these threats had
at the moment been in vain, and the doctor had compromised matters
by inducing Sir Louis to promise that he would go to Brighton. The
baronet, however, who was at length frightened by some renewed
attack, gave up his Brighton scheme, and, without any notice to the
doctor, hurried down to Boxall Hill.
Mary did not see him on the first day of his coming, but the doctor
did. He received such intimation of the visit as enabled him to be at
the house soon after the young man's arrival; and, knowing that his
assistance might be necessary, he rode over to Boxall Hill. It was
a dreadful task to him, this of making the same fruitless endeavour
for the son that he had made for the father, and in the same house.
But he was bound by every consideration to perform the task. He had
promised the father that he would do for the son all that was in his
power; and he had, moreover, the consciousness, that should Sir Louis
succeed in destroying himself, the next heir to all the property was
his own niece, Mary Thorne.
He found Sir Louis in a low, wretched, miserable state. Though he
was a drunkard as his father was, he was not at all such a drunkard
as was his father. The physical capacities of the men were very
different. The daily amount of alcohol which the father had consumed
would have burnt up the son in a week; whereas, though the son
was continually tipsy, what he swallowed would hardly have had an
injurious effect upon the father.
"You are all wrong, quite wrong," said Sir Louis, petulantly; "it
isn't that at all. I have taken nothing this week past--literally
nothing. I think it's the liver."
Dr Thorne wanted no one to tell him what was the matter with his
ward. It was his liver; his liver, and his head, and his stomach, and
his heart. Every organ in his body had been destroyed, or was in the
course of destruction. His father had killed himself with brandy;
the son, more elevated in his tastes, was doing the same thing with
curaçoa, maraschino, and cherry-bounce.
"Sir Louis," said the doctor--he was obliged to be much more
punctilious with him than he had been with the contractor--"the
matter is in your own hands entirely: if you cannot keep your lips
from that accursed poison, you have nothing in this world to look
forward to; nothing, nothing!"
Mary proposed to return with her uncle to Greshamsbury, and he was
at first well inclined that she should do so. But this idea was
overruled, partly in compliance with Lady Scatcherd's entreaties, and
partly because it would have seemed as though they had both thought
the presence of its owner had made the house an unfit habitation for
decent people. The doctor therefore returned, leaving Mary there; and
Lady Scatcherd busied herself between her two guests.
On the next day Sir Louis was able to come down to a late dinner, and
Mary was introduced to him. He had dressed himself in his best array;
and as he had--at any rate for the present moment--been frightened
out of his libations, he was prepared to make himself as agreeable as
possible. His mother waited on him almost as a slave might have done;
but she seemed to do so with the fear of a slave rather than the love
of a mother. She was fidgety in her attentions, and worried him by
endeavouring to make her evening sitting-room agreeable.
But Sir Louis, though he was not very sweetly behaved under these
manipulations from his mother's hands, was quite complaisant to
Miss Thorne; nay, after the expiration of a week he was almost more
than complaisant. He piqued himself on his gallantry, and now found
that, in the otherwise dull seclusion of Boxall Hill, he had a good
opportunity of exercising it. To do him justice it must be admitted
that he would not have been incapable of a decent career had he
stumbled upon some girl who could have loved him before he stumbled
upon his maraschino bottle. Such might have been the case with many
a lost rake. The things that are bad are accepted because the things
that are good do not come easily in his way. How many a miserable
father reviles with bitterness of spirit the low tastes of his son,
who has done nothing to provide his child with higher pleasures!
Sir Louis--partly in the hopes of Mary's smiles, and partly
frightened by the doctor's threats--did, for a while, keep himself
within decent bounds. He did not usually appear before Mary's eyes
till three or four in the afternoon; but when he did come forth, he
came forth sober and resolute to please. His mother was delighted,
and was not slow to sing his praises; and even the doctor, who now
visited Boxall Hill more frequently than ever, began to have some
hopes.
One constant subject, I must not say of conversation, on the part
of Lady Scatcherd, but rather of declamation, had hitherto been the
beauty and manly attributes of Frank Gresham. She had hardly ceased
to talk to Mary of the infinite good qualities of the young squire,
and especially of his prowess in the matter of Mr Moffat. Mary had
listened to all this eloquence, not perhaps with inattention, but
without much reply. She had not been exactly sorry to hear Frank
talked about; indeed, had she been so minded, she could herself have
said something on the same subject; but she did not wish to take Lady
Scatcherd altogether into her confidence, and she had been unable to
say much about Frank Gresham without doing so. Lady Scatcherd had,
therefore, gradually conceived the idea that her darling was not a
favourite with her guest.
Now, therefore, she changed the subject; and, as her own son was
behaving with such unexampled propriety, she dropped Frank and
confined her eulogies to Louis. He had been a little wild, she
admitted; young men so often were so; but she hoped that it was now
over.
"He does still take a little drop of those French drinks in the
morning," said Lady Scatcherd, in her confidence; for she was too
honest to be false, even in her own cause. "He does do that, I know:
but that's nothing, my dear, to swilling all day; and everything
can't be done at once, can it, Miss Thorne?"
On this subject Mary found her tongue loosened. She could not talk
about Frank Gresham, but she could speak with hope to the mother of
her only son. She could say that Sir Louis was still very young; that
there was reason to trust that he might now reform; that his present
conduct was apparently good; and that he appeared capable of better
things. So much she did say; and the mother took her sympathy for
more than it was worth.
On this matter, and on this matter perhaps alone, Sir Louis and Lady
Scatcherd were in accord. There was much to recommend Mary to the
baronet; not only did he see her to be beautiful, and perceive her
to be attractive and ladylike; but she was also the niece of the man
who, for the present, held the purse-strings of his wealth. Mary, it
is true, had no fortune. But Sir Louis knew that she was acknowledged
to be a lady; and he was ambitious that his "lady" should be a lady.
There was also much to recommend Mary to the mother, to any mother;
and thus it came to pass, that Miss Thorne had no obstacle between
her and the dignity of being Lady Scatcherd the second;--no obstacle
whatever, if only she could bring herself to wish it.
It was some time--two or three weeks, perhaps--before Mary's mind was
first opened to this new brilliancy in her prospects. Sir Louis at
first was rather afraid of her, and did not declare his admiration
in any very determined terms. He certainly paid her many compliments
which, from any one else, she would have regarded as abominable.
But she did not expect great things from the baronet's taste: she
concluded that he was only doing what he thought a gentleman should
do; and she was willing to forgive much for Lady Scatcherd's sake.
His first attempts were, perhaps, more ludicrous than passionate. He
was still too much an invalid to take walks, and Mary was therefore
saved from his company in her rambles; but he had a horse of his own
at Boxall Hill, and had been advised to ride by the doctor. Mary
also rode--on a donkey only, it is true--but Sir Louis found himself
bound in gallantry to accompany her. Mary's steed had answered every
expectation, and proved himself very quiet; so quiet, that without
the admonition of a cudgel behind him, he could hardly be persuaded
into the demurest trot. Now, as Sir Louis's horse was of a very
different mettle, he found it rather difficult not to step faster
than his inamorata; and, let him struggle as he would, was generally
so far ahead as to be debarred the delights of conversation.
When for the second time he proposed to accompany her, Mary did what
she could to hinder it. She saw that he had been rather ashamed of
the manner in which his companion was mounted, and she herself would
have enjoyed her ride much more without him. He was an invalid,
however; it was necessary to make much of him, and Mary did not
absolutely refuse his offer.
"Lady Scatcherd," said he, as they were standing at the door previous
to mounting--he always called his mother Lady Scatcherd--"why don't
you have a horse for Miss Thorne? This donkey is--is--really is, so
very--very--can't go at all, you know?"
Lady Scatcherd began to declare that she would willingly have got a
pony if Mary would have let her do so.
"Oh, no, Lady Scatcherd; not on any account. I do like the donkey so
much--I do indeed."
"But he won't go," said Sir Louis. "And for a person who rides like
you, Miss Thorne--such a horsewoman you know--why, you know, Lady
Scatcherd, it's positively ridiculous; d---- absurd, you know."
And then, with an angry look at his mother, he mounted his horse, and
was soon leading the way down the avenue.
"Miss Thorne," said he, pulling himself up at the gate, "if I had
known that I was to be so extremely happy as to have found you here,
I would have brought you down the most beautiful creature, an Arab.
She belongs to my friend Jenkins; but I wouldn't have stood at any
price in getting her for you. By Jove! if you were on that mare, I'd
back you, for style and appearance, against anything in Hyde Park."
The offer of this sporting wager, which naturally would have been
very gratifying to Mary, was lost upon her, for Sir Louis had again
unwittingly got on in advance, but he stopped himself in time to hear
Mary again declare her passion was a donkey.
"If you could only see Jenkins's little mare, Miss Thorne! Only say
one word, and she shall be down here before the week's end. Price
shall be no obstacle--none whatever. By Jove, what a pair you would
be!"
This generous offer was repeated four or five times; but on each
occasion Mary only half heard what was said, and on each occasion the
baronet was far too much in advance to hear Mary's reply. At last he
recollected that he wanted to call on one of the tenants, and begged
his companion to allow him to ride on.
"If you at all dislike being left alone, you know--"
"Oh dear no, not at all, Sir Louis. I am quite used to it."
"Because I don't care about it, you know; only I can't make this
horse walk the same pace as that brute."
"You mustn't abuse my pet, Sir Louis."
"It's a d---- shame on my mother's part;" said Sir Louis, who, even
when in his best behaviour, could not quite give up his ordinary mode
of conversation. "When she was fortunate enough to get such a girl as
you to come and stay with her, she ought to have had something proper
for her to ride upon; but I'll look to it as soon as I am a little
stronger, you see if I don't;" and, so saying, Sir Louis trotted off,
leaving Mary in peace with her donkey.
Sir Louis had now been living cleanly and forswearing sack for what
was to him a very long period, and his health felt the good effects
of it. No one rejoiced at this more cordially than did the doctor. To
rejoice at it was with him a point of conscience. He could not help
telling himself now and again that, circumstanced as he was, he was
most specially bound to take joy in any sign of reformation which
the baronet might show. Not to do so would be almost tantamount
to wishing that he might die in order that Mary might inherit his
wealth; and, therefore, the doctor did with all his energy devote
himself to the difficult task of hoping and striving that Sir Louis
might yet live to enjoy what was his own. But the task was altogether
a difficult one, for as Sir Louis became stronger in health, so
also did he become more exorbitant in his demands on the doctor's
patience, and more repugnant to the doctor's tastes.
In his worst fits of disreputable living he was ashamed to apply to
his guardian for money; and in his worst fits of illness he was,
through fear, somewhat patient under his doctor's hands; but just at
present he had nothing of which to be ashamed, and was not at all
patient.
"Doctor,"--said he, one day, at Boxall Hill--"how about those
Greshamsbury title-deeds?"
"Oh, that will all be properly settled between my lawyer and your
own."
"Oh--ah--yes; no doubt the lawyers will settle it: settle it with a
fine bill of costs, of course. But, as Finnie says,"--Finnie was Sir
Louis's legal adviser--"I have got a tremendously large interest at
stake in this matter; eighty thousand pounds is no joke. It ain't
everybody that can shell out eighty thousand pounds when they're
wanted; and I should like to know how the thing's going on. I've a
right to ask, you know; eh, doctor?"
"The title-deeds of a large portion of the Greshamsbury estate will
be placed with the mortgage-deeds before the end of next month."
"Oh, that's all right. I choose to know about these things; for
though my father did make such a con-found-ed will, that's no reason
I shouldn't know how things are going."
"You shall know everything that I know, Sir Louis."
"And now, doctor, what are we to do about money?"
"About money?"
"Yes; money, rhino, ready! 'put money in your purse and cut a dash;'
eh, doctor? Not that I want to cut a dash. No, I'm going on the quiet
line altogether now: I've done with all that sort of thing."
"I'm heartily glad of it; heartily," said the doctor.
"Yes, I'm not going to make way for my far-away cousin yet; not if I
know it, at least. I shall soon be all right now, doctor; shan't I?"
"'All right' is a long word, Sir Louis. But I do hope you will be all
right in time, if you will live with decent prudence. You shouldn't
take that filth in the morning though."
"Filth in the morning! That's my mother, I suppose! That's her
ladyship! She's been talking, has she? Don't you believe her, doctor.
There's not a young man in Barsetshire is going more regular, all
right within the posts, than I am."
The doctor was obliged to acknowledge that there did seem to be some
improvement.
"And now, doctor, how about money? Eh?"
Doctor Thorne, like other guardians similarly circumstanced, began to
explain that Sir Louis had already had a good deal of money, and had
begun also to promise that more should be forthcoming in the event
of good behaviour, when he was somewhat suddenly interrupted by Sir
Louis.
"Well, now; I'll tell you what, doctor; I've got a bit of news for
you; something that I think will astonish you."
The doctor opened his eyes, and tried to look as though ready to be
surprised.
"Something that will really make you look about; and something, too,
that will be very much to the hearer's advantage,--as the newspaper
advertisements say."
"Something to my advantage?" said the doctor.
"Well, I hope you'll think so. Doctor, what would you think now of my
getting married?"
"I should be delighted to hear of it--more delighted than I can
express; that is, of course, if you were to marry well. It was your
father's most eager wish that you should marry early."
"That's partly my reason," said the young hypocrite. "But then, if I
marry I must have an income fit to live on; eh, doctor?"
The doctor had some fear that his interesting protégée was desirous
of a wife for the sake of the income, instead of desiring the income
for the sake of the wife. But let the cause be what it would,
marriage would probably be good for him; and he had no hesitation,
therefore, in telling him, that if he married well, he should be put
in possession of sufficient income to maintain the new Lady Scatcherd
in a manner becoming her dignity.
"As to marrying well," said Sir Louis, "you, I take it, will be the
last man, doctor, to quarrel with my choice."
"Shall I?" said the doctor, smiling.
"Well, you won't disapprove, I guess, as the Yankee says. What would
you think of Miss Mary Thorne?"
It must be said in Sir Louis's favour that he had probably no idea
whatever of the estimation in which such young ladies as Mary Thorne
are held by those who are nearest and dearest to them. He had no sort
of conception that she was regarded by her uncle as an inestimable
treasure, almost too precious to be rendered up to the arms of any
man; and infinitely beyond any price in silver and gold, baronets'
incomes of eight or ten thousand a year, and such coins usually
current in the world's markets. He was a rich man and a baronet,
and Mary was an unmarried girl without a portion. In Sir Louis's
estimation he was offering everything, and asking for nothing. He
certainly had some idea that girls were apt to be coy, and required
a little wooing in the shape of presents, civil speeches--perhaps
kisses also. The civil speeches he had, he thought, done, and
imagined that they had been well received. The other things were to
follow; an Arab pony, for instance,--and the kisses probably with it;
and then all these difficulties would be smoothed.
But he did not for a moment conceive that there would be any
difficulty with the uncle. How should there be? Was he not a baronet
with ten thousand a year coming to him? Had he not everything which
fathers want for portionless daughters, and uncles for dependant
nieces? Might he not well inform the doctor that he had something to
tell him for his advantage?
And yet, to tell the truth, the doctor did not seem to be overjoyed
when the announcement was first made to him. He was by no means
overjoyed. On the contrary, even Sir Louis could perceive his
guardian's surprise was altogether unmixed with delight.
What a question was this that was asked him! What would he think of
a marriage between Mary Thorne--his Mary and Sir Louis Scatcherd?
Between the alpha of the whole alphabet, and him whom he could not
but regard as the omega! Think of it! Why he would think of it as
though a lamb and a wolf were to stand at the altar together. Had Sir
Louis been a Hottentot, or an Esquimaux, the proposal could not have
astonished him more. The two persons were so totally of a different
class, that the idea of the one falling in love with the other had
never occurred to him. "What would you think of Miss Mary Thorne?"
Sir Louis had asked; and the doctor, instead of answering him
with ready and pleased alacrity, stood silent, thunderstruck with
amazement.
"Well, wouldn't she be a good wife?" said Sir Louis, rather in a tone
of disgust at the evident disapproval shown at his choice. "I thought
you'd have been so delighted."
"Mary Thorne!" ejaculated the doctor at last. "Have you spoken to my
niece about this, Sir Louis?"
"Well, I have and yet I haven't; I haven't, and yet in a manner I
have."
"I don't understand you," said the doctor.
"Why, you see, I haven't exactly popped to her yet; but I have been
doing the civil; and if she's up to snuff, as I take her to be, she
knows very well what I'm after by this time."
Up to snuff! Mary Thorne, his Mary Thorne, up to snuff! To snuff too
of such a very disagreeable description!
"I think, Sir Louis, that you are in mistake about this. I think you
will find that Mary will not be disposed to avail herself of the
great advantages--for great they undoubtedly are--which you are able
to offer to your intended wife. If you will take my advice, you will
give up thinking of Mary. She would not suit you."
"Not suit me! Oh, but I think she just would. She's got no money, you
mean?"
"No, I did not mean that. It will not signify to you whether your
wife has money or not. You need not look for money. But you should
think of some one more nearly of your own temperament. I am quite
sure that my niece would refuse you."
These last words the doctor uttered with much emphasis. His intention
was to make the baronet understand that the matter was quite
hopeless, and to induce him if possible to drop it on the spot. But
he did not know Sir Louis; he ranked him too low in the scale of
human beings, and gave him no credit for any strength of character.
Sir Louis in his way did love Mary Thorne; and could not bring
himself to believe that Mary did not, or at any rate, would not soon
return his passion. He was, moreover, sufficiently obstinate, firm we
ought perhaps to say,--for his pursuit in this case was certainly not
an evil one,--and he at once made up his mind to succeed in spite of
the uncle.
"If she consents, however, you will do so too?" asked he.
"It is impossible she should consent," said the doctor.
"Impossible! I don't see anything at all impossible. But if she
does?"
"But she won't."
"Very well,--that's to be seen. But just tell me this, if she does,
will you consent?"
"The stars would fall first. It's all nonsense. Give it up, my dear
friend; believe me you are only preparing unhappiness for yourself;"
and the doctor put his hand kindly on the young man's arm. "She will
not, cannot accept such an offer."
"Will not! cannot!" said the baronet, thinking over all the reasons
which in his estimation could possibly be inducing the doctor to be
so hostile to his views, and shaking the hand off his arm. "Will not!
cannot! But come, doctor, answer my question fairly. If she'll have
me for better or worse, you won't say aught against it; will you?"
"But she won't have you; why should you give her and yourself the
pain of a refusal?"
"Oh, as for that, I must stand my chances like another. And as for
her, why d----, doctor, you wouldn't have me believe that any young
lady thinks it so very dreadful to have a baronet with ten thousand
pounds a year at her feet, specially when that same baronet ain't
very old, nor yet particularly ugly. I ain't so green as that,
doctor."
"I suppose she must go through it, then," said the doctor, musing.
"But, Dr Thorne, I did look for a kinder answer from you, considering
all that you so often say about your great friendship with my father.
I did think you'd at any rate answer me when I asked you a question."
But the doctor did not want to answer that special question. Could
it be possible that Mary should wish to marry this odious man, could
such a state of things be imagined to be the case, he would not
refuse his consent, infinitely as he would be disgusted by her
choice. But he would not give Sir Louis any excuse for telling Mary
that her uncle approved of so odious a match.
"I cannot say that in any case I should approve of such a marriage,
Sir Louis. I cannot bring myself to say so; for I know it would make
you both miserable. But on that matter my niece will choose wholly
for herself."
"And about the money, doctor?"
"If you marry a decent woman you shall not want the means of
supporting her decently," and so saying the doctor walked away,
leaving Sir Louis to his meditations.