Dr Thorne - Anthony Trollope [4]
Frank found the task before him by no means an easy one. He had to make Miss Dunstable understand that he had never had the slightest idea of marrying her, and that he had made love* to her merely with the object of keeping his hand in for the work as it were; with that object, and the other equally laudable one of interfering with his cousin George…
‘Miss Dunstable, I never for a moment thought of doing what you accuse me of; on my honour, I never did. I have been very foolish – very wrong – idiotic, I believe; but I have never intended that.’
‘Then, Mr Gresham, what did you intend?’
This was rather a difficult question to answer; and Frank was not very quick in attempting it. ‘I know you will not forgive me,’ he said at last; ‘and, indeed, I do not see how you can. I don’t know how it came about; but this is certain, Miss Dunstable; I have never for a moment thought about your fortune; that is, thought about it in the way of coveting it.’
‘You never thought of making me your wife, then?’
‘Never,’ said Frank, looking boldly into her face.
‘You never intended really to propose to go with me to the altar, and then make yourself rich by one great perjury?’
‘Never for a moment,’ said he.
Still less has he thought about any fortune that may be coming the way of Mary Thorne. Her poverty dismays his bankrupt father and infuriates his greedy pathetic mother, but he is undeterred by it. His father must not trouble himself about the Greshamsbury estate for his sake. ‘I do not care for it. I can be just as happy without it. Let the girls have what is left, and I will make my own way in the world somehow. I will go to Australia; yes, sir, that will be best. I and Mary will both go…’
Falling in love was to Trollope what A. O. J. Cockshut calls ‘a virtuous art’ and adds that it ‘becomes more virtuous still if it outlasts rejection and loss of hope’.3 All his most attractive heroines have this art. For the best of them there can be no changes of heart, no second thoughts, and Mary Thorne is one of the very best. If one’s belief in her is ever shaken, it is only by wonder that the ‘little chit of a girl’ who comes home from school to be the mistress of Dr Thorne’s establishment at the age of twelve can grow so apparently effortlessly into the beautiful, gracious and astonishingly self-possessed young woman who loves Frank and is loved by him.
Much of Mary’s charm lies in her ability to endear herself to us in spite of her unshakeable poise. Very self-possessed people are often repellent; they provoke shyness in others and a sense of inferiority. But it must be Mary’s modesty – a quality highly valued by Trollope in women – her ready wit and her affection for her uncle, touching to behold, that, far from keeping us in awe of her, make us feel as easy and companionable a liking for her as we have for the doctor himself. Mary and her uncle love each other, but it is an equal and entirely reciprocal love unusual in Victorian fiction. Certainly Mary is respectful. She is respectful to all her elders, even to Lady Arabella who has treated her cruelly. Asking Lady Scatcherd to call her by her first name, she kneels at the old woman’s feet and takes her hand. But