Dr Thorne - Anthony Trollope [219]
‘Take those things, Bridget,’ he said, coming forward and offering his hand to the baronet. Sir Louis, when he saw his host, roused himself slowly from the back of his carriage. ‘How do, doctor?’ said he. ‘What terrible bad roads you have here! and, upon my word, it’s as cold as winter’: and, so saying, he slowly proceeded to descend.
Sir Louis was a year older than when we last saw him, and, in his generation, a year wiser. He had then been somewhat humble before the doctor; but now he was determined to let his guardian see that he knew how to act the baronet; that he had acquired the manners of a great man; and that he was not to be put upon. He had learnt some lessons from Jenkins, in London, and other friends of the same sort, and he was about to profit by them.
The doctor showed him to his room, and then proceeded to ask after his health. ‘Oh, I’m right enough,’ said Sir Louis. ‘You mustn’t believe all that fellow Greyson tells you: he wants me to take his salts and senna, opodeldoc, and all that sort of stuff; looks after his bill, you know – eh? like all the rest of you. But I won’t have it; – not at any price; and then he writes to you.’
‘I’m glad to see you able to travel,’ said Dr Thorne, who could not force himself to tell his guest that he was glad to see him at Greshamsbury.
‘Oh, travel; yes, I can travel well enough. But I wish you had some better sort of trap down in these country parts. I’m shaken to bits. And, doctor, would you tell your people to send that fellow of mine up here with hot water.’
So dismissed, the doctor went his way, and met Joe swaggering in one of the passages, while Janet and her colleague dragged along between them a heavy article of baggage.
‘Janet,’ said he, ‘go downstairs and get Sir Louis some hot water, and, Joe, do you take hold of your master’s portmanteau.’
Joe sulkily did as he was bid. ‘Seems to me,’ said he, turning to the girl, and speaking before the doctor was out of hearing, ‘seems to me, my dear, you be rather short-handed here; lots of work and nothing to get; that’s about the ticket, ain’t it?’ Bridget was too demurely modest to make any answer upon so short an acquaintance; so, putting her end of the burden down at the strange gentleman’s door, she retreated into the kitchen.
Sir Louis, in answer to the doctor’s inquiries, had declared himself to be all right; but his appearance was anything but all right. Twelve months since, a life of dissipation, or rather, perhaps, a life of drinking, had not had upon him so strong an effect but that some of the salt of youth was still left; some of the freshness of young years might still be seen in his face. But this was now all gone; his eyes were sunken and watery, his cheeks were hollow and wan, his mouth was drawn and his lips dry; his back was even bent, and his legs were unsteady under him, so that he had been forced to step down from his carriage as an old man would do. Alas, alas! he had no further chance now of ever being all right again.
Mary had secluded herself in her bedroom as soon as the carriage had driven up to the door, and there she remained till dinner-time. But she could not shut herself up altogether. It would be necessary that she should appear at dinner; and, therefore, a few minutes before the hour, she crept out into the drawing-room. As she opened the door, she looked in timidly, expecting to see Sir Louis there; but when she saw that her uncle was the only occupant of the room, her brow cleared, and she entered with a quick step.
‘He’ll come down to dinner; won’t he, uncle?’
‘Oh, I suppose so.’
‘What’s he doing now?’
‘Dressing, I suppose; he’s been at it this hour.’
‘But, uncle –’
‘Well?’
‘Will he come up after dinner, do you think?’
Mary spoke of him as though he were some wild beast, whom her uncle insisted on having in his house.
‘Goodness knows what he will do! Come up? Yes. He will not stay in the dining-room all night.’
‘But, dear uncle, do be serious.’
‘Serious!’
‘Yes; serious. Don’t you