Dr Thorne - Anthony Trollope [230]
On her uncle’s return, she would hear some word about him; and so she sat alone, with a book before her, of which she could not read a line. She expected them about eleven, and was, therefore, rather surprised when the fly stopped at the door before nine.
She immediately heard her uncle’s voice, loud and angry, calling for Thomas. Both Thomas and Bridget were unfortunately out, being, at this moment, forgetful of all sublunary cares, and seated in happiness under a beech-tree in the park. Janet flew to the little gate, and there found Sir Louis insisting that he would be taken at once to his own mansion at Boxall Hill, and positively swearing that he would no longer submit to the insult of the doctor’s surveillance.
In the absence of Thomas, the doctor was forced to apply for assistance to the driver of the fly. Between them the baronet was dragged out of the vehicle, the windows suffered much, and the doctor’s hat also. In this way, he was taken upstairs, and was at last put to bed, Janet assisting; nor did the doctor leave the room till his guest was asleep. Then he went into the drawing-room to Mary. It may easily be conceived that he was hardly in a humour to talk much about Frank Gresham.
‘What am I to do with him?’ said he, almost in tears: ’what am I to do with him?’
‘Can you not send him to Boxall Hill?’ asked Mary.
‘Yes; to kill himself there! But it is no matter; he will kill himself somewhere. Oh! what that family have done for me!’ And then suddenly remembering a portion of their doings, he took Mary in his arms, and kissed and blessed her; and declared that, in spite of all this, he was a happy man.
There was no word about Frank that night. The next morning, the doctor found Sir Louis very weak, and begging for stimulants. He was worse than weak; he was in such a state of wretched misery and mental prostration; so low in heart, in such collapse of energy and spirit, that Dr Thorne thought it prudent to remove his razors from his reach.
‘For God’s sake do let me have a little chasse-café; I’m always used to it; ask Joe if I’m not! You don’t want to kill me, do you?’ And the baronet cried piteously, like a child, and, when the doctor left him for the breakfast table, abjectly implored Janet to get him some curacoa which he knew was in one of his portmanteaus. Janet, however, was true to her master.
The doctor did give him some wine; and then, having left strict orders as to his treatment – Bridget and Thomas being now both in the house – went forth to some of his too much neglected patients.
Then Mary was again alone, and her mind flew away to her lover. How should she be able to compose herself when she should first see him? See him she must. People cannot live in the same village without meeting. If she passed him at the church-door, as she so often passed Lady Arabella, what should she do? Lady Arabella always smiled a peculiar, little, bitter smile, and this, with half a nod of recognition, carried off the meeting. Should she try the bitter smile, the half-nod with Frank? Alas! she knew it was not in her to be so much mistress of her own heart’s blood.
As she thus thought, she stood at the drawing-room window, looking out into her garden; and, as she leant against the sill, her head was surrounded by the sweet creepers. ‘At any rate, he won’t come here,’ she said: