Dr Thorne - Anthony Trollope [238]
‘I differ from you entirely, Mr Gazebee; in toto, as we used to say at Eton. What you mean to say is this – I can’t go to law with Mr Gresham; I’m not so sure of that; but perhaps not. But I can compel Dr Thorne to look after my interests. I can force him to foreclose. And, to tell you the truth, Gazebee, unless some arrangement is proposed to me which I shall think advantageous, I shall do so at once. There is near a hundred thousand pounds owing to me; yes, to me. Thorne is only a name in the matter. The money is my money; and, by——, I mean to look after it.’
‘Have you any doubt, Sir Louis, as to the money being secure?’
‘Yes, I have. It isn’t so easy to have a hundred thousand pounds secured. The squire is a poor man, and I don’t choose to allow a poor man to owe me such a sum as that. Besides, I mean to invest it in land. I tell you fairly, therefore, I shall foreclose.’
Mr Gazebee, using all the perspicuity which his professional education had left to him, tried to make Sir Louis understand that he had no power to do anything of the kind.
‘No power! Mr Gresham shall see whether I have no power. When a man has a hundred thousand pounds owing to him he ought to have some power; and, as I take it, he has. But we will see. Perhaps you know Finnie; do you?’
Mr Gazebee, with a good deal of scorn in his face,.said that he had not that pleasure. Mr Finnie was not in his line.
‘Well, you will know him then, and you’ll find he’s sharp enough; that is, unless I have some offer made to me that I may choose to accept.’ Mr Gazebee declared that he was not instructed to make any offer, and so he took his leave.
On that afternoon, Sir Louis went off to Boxall Hill, transferring the miserable task of superintending his self-destruction from the shoulders of the doctor to those of his mother. Of Lady Scatcherd, the baronet took no account in his proposed sojourn in the country, nor did he take much of the doctor in leaving Greshamsbury. He again wrapped himself in his furs, and, with tottering steps, climbed up into the barouche which was to carry him away.
‘Is my man up behind?’ he said to Janet, while the doctor was standing at the little front garden-gate, making his adieux.
‘No, sir, he’s not up yet,’ said Janet, respectfully.
‘Then send him out, will you? I can’t lose my time waiting here all day.’
‘I shall come over to Boxall Hill and see you,’ said the doctor, whose heart softened towards the man, in spite of his brutality, as the hour of his departure came.
‘I shall be happy to see you if you like to come, of course; that is, in the way of visiting, and that sort of thing. As for doctoring, if I want any I shall send for Fillgrave.’ Such were his last words as the carriage, with a rush, went off from the door.
The doctor, as he re-entered the house, could not avoid smiling, for he thought of Dr Fillgrave’s last patient at Boxall Hill. ‘It’s a question to me,’ said he to himself, ‘whether Dr Fillgrave will ever be induced to make another visit to that house, even with the object of rescuing a baronet out of my hands.’
‘He’s gone; isn’t he, uncle?’ said Mary, coming out of her room.
‘Yes, my dear; he’s gone, poor fellow!’
‘He may be a poor fellow, uncle; but he’s a very disagreeable inmate in a house. I have not had any dinner these two days.’
‘And I haven’t had what can be called a cup of tea since he’s been in the house. But I’ll make up for that tonight.’
CHAPTER XXXVIII
De Courcy Precepts and De Courcy Practice
THERE is a mode of novel-writing which used to be much in vogue, but which has now gone out of fashion. It is, nevertheless, one which is very expressive when in good hands, and which enables the author to tell his story, or some portion of his story, with more natural trust than any other, I mean that of familiar letters. I trust I shall be excused if I attempt it as regards this one chapter; though, it may be, that I shall break down and fall