Dr Thorne - Anthony Trollope [166]
‘Gently, Scatcherd; gently. He will listen to you yet; but do not be so unruly.’
‘Thorne, you see that bottle there? Give me half a glass of brandy.’
The doctor turned round in his chair; but he hesitated in doing as he was desired.
‘Do as I ask you, doctor. It can do no harm now; you know that well enough. Why torture me now?’
‘No, I will not torture you; but you will have water with it?’
‘Water! No; the brandy by itself. I tell you I cannot speak without it. What’s the use of canting now? You know it can make no difference.’
Sir Roger was right. It could make no difference; and Dr Thorne gave him the half glass of brandy.
‘Ah, well; you’ve a stingy hand, doctor; confounded stingy. You don’t measure your medicines out in such light doses.’
‘You will be wanting more before morning, you know.’
‘Before morning! indeed I shall; a pint or so before that. I remember the time, doctor, when I have drunk to my own cheek above two quarts between dinner and breakfast! aye, and worked all the day after it!’
‘You have been a wonderful man, Scatcherd, very wonderful.’
‘Aye, wonderful! well, never mind. It’s over now. But what was I saying? – about Louis, doctor; you’ll not desert him?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘He’s not strong; I know that. How should he be strong, living as he has done? Not that it seemed to hurt me when I was his age.’
‘You had the advantage of hard work.’
‘That’s it. Sometimes I wish that Louis had not a shilling in the world; that he had to trudge about with an apron round his waist as I did. But it’s too late now to think of that. If he would only marry, doctor.’
Dr Thorne again expressed an opinion that no step would be so likely to reform the habits of the young heir as marriage; and repeated his advice to the father to implore his son to take a wife.
‘I’ll tell you what, Thorne,’ said he. And then, after a pause, he went on. ‘I have not half told you as yet what is on my mind; and I’m nearly afraid to tell it; though, indeed, I don’t know why I should be.’
‘I never knew you afraid of anything yet,’ said the doctor, smiling gently.
‘Well, then, I’ll not end by turning coward. Now, doctor, tell the truth to me; what do you expect me to do for that girl of yours that we were talking of – Mary’s child?’
There was a pause for a moment, for Thorne was slow to answer him.
‘You would not let me see her, you know, though she is my niece as truly as she is yours.’
‘Nothing,’ at last said the doctor, slowly. ‘I expect nothing. I would not let you see her, and therefore I expect nothing.’
‘She will have it all if poor Louis should die,’ said Sir Roger.
‘If you intend it so you should put her name into the will,’ said the other. ‘Not that I ask you or wish you to do so. Mary, thank God, can do without wealth.’
‘Thorne, on one condition I will put her name into it. I will alter it all on one condition. Let the two cousins be man and wife – let Louis marry poor Mary’s child.’
The proposition for a moment took away the doctor’s breath, and he was unable to answer. Not for all the wealth of India would he have given up his lamb to that young wolf, even though he had had the power to do so. But that lamb – lamb though she was – had, as he well knew, a will of her own on such a matter. What alliance could be more impossible, thought he to himself, than one between Mary Thorne and Louis Scatcherd!
‘I will alter it all if you will give me your hand upon it that you will do your best to bring about this marriage. Everything shall be his on the day he marries her; and should he die unmarried, it shall all then be hers by name. Say the word, Thorne, and she shall come here at once. I shall yet have time to see her.’
But Dr Thorne did not say the word; just at the moment he said nothing, but he slowly shook his head.
‘Why not, Thorne?’
‘My friend, it is impossible.’
‘Why impossible?’
‘Her hand is not mine to dispose of, nor is her heart.’
‘Then let her come over herself.’
‘What! Scatcherd, that the son might make love to her while the father is so dangerously ill! Bid her come to