Dr Thorne - Anthony Trollope [288]
There never was a fox yet without a tail who would not be delighted to find himself suddenly possessed of that appendage. Never; let the untailed fox have been ever so sincere in his advice to his friends! We are all of us, the good and the bad, looking for tails – for one tail, or for more than one; we do so too often by ways that are mean enough: but perhaps there is no tail-seeker more mean, more sneakingly mean, than he who looks out to adorn his bare back with a tail by marriage.
The doctor was up very early the next morning, long before Mary was ready with her teacups. He was up, and in his own study behind the shop, arranging dingy papers, pulling about tin boxes which he had brought down with him from London, and piling on his writing-table one set of documents in one place, and one in another. ‘I think I understand it all,’ said he; ‘but yet I know I shall be bothered. Well, I never will be anybody’s trustee again. Let me see!’ and then he sat down, and with bewildered look recapitulated to himself sundry heavy items. ‘What those shares are really worth I cannot understand, and nobody seems able to tell one. They must make it out among them as best they can. Let me see; that’s Boxall Hill, and this is Greshamsbury. I’ll put a newspaper over Greshamsbury, or the squire will know it!’ and then, having made his arrangements, he went to his breakfast.
I know I am wrong, my much and truly honoured critic, about these tide-deeds and documents. But when we’ve got that barrister in hand, then if I go wrong after that, let the blame be on my own shoulders – or on his.
The doctor ate his breakfast quickly, and did not talk much to his niece. But what he did say was of a nature to make her feel strangely happy. She could not analyse her own feelings, or give a reason for her own confidence; but she certainly did feel, and even trust, that something was going to happen after breakfast which would make her more happy than she had been for many months.
‘Janet,’ said he, looking at his watch, ‘if Mr Gresham and Mr Frank call, show them into my study. What are you going to do with yourself, my dear?’
‘I don’t know, uncle; you are so mysterious, and I am in such a twitter, that I don’t know what to do. Why is Mr Gresham coming here – that is, the squire?’
‘Because I have business with him about the Scatcherd property. You know that he owed Sir Louis money. But don’t go out, Mary. I want you to be in the way if I should have to call for you. You can stay in the drawing-room, can’t you?’
‘Oh, yes, uncle; or here.’
‘No, dearest; go into the drawing-room.’ Mary obediently did as she was bid; and there she sat, for the next three hours, wondering, wondering, wondering. During the greater part of that time, however, she well knew that Mr Gresham, senior, and Mr Gresham, junior, were both with her uncle, below.
At eleven o’clock the doctor’s visitors came. He had expected them somewhat earlier, and was beginning to become fidgety. He had so much on his hands that he could not sit still for a moment till he had, at any rate, commenced it. The expected footsteps were at last heard on the gravel-path, and a moment or two afterwards Janet ushered the father and son into the room.
The squire did not look very well. He was worn and sorrowful, and rather pale. The death of his young creditor might be supposed to have given him some relief from his more pressing cares, but the necessity of yielding to Frank’s wishes had almost more than balanced this. When a man has daily to reflect that he is poorer than he was the day before, he soon becomes worn and sorrowful.
But Frank was well; both in health and spirits. He also felt as Mary did, that the day was to bring forth something which should end his present troubles; and he could not but be happy to think that he could now tell Dr Thorne that his father’s consent to his marriage had been given.
The doctor shook hands with them both, and them they sat down. They were all rather constrained in their manner; and at first it seemed