Dr Thorne - Anthony Trollope [80]
‘Oh! quite right, quite right. I think I would have named a later age than twenty-five.’
‘So would not I. Louis Philippe will be all right by that time. That’s my lookout. And now, doctor, you know my will; and if I die tomorrow, you will know what I want you to do for me.’
‘You have merely said the eldest child, Scatcherd?’
‘That’s all; give it here, and I’ll read it to you.’
‘No, no; never mind. The eldest child! You should be more particular, Scatcherd; you should, indeed. Consider what an enormous interest may have to depend on those words.’
‘Why, what the devil could I say? I don’t know their names; never even heard hem. But the eldest is the eldest, all the world over. Perhaps I ought to say the youngest, seeing that I am only a railway contractor.’
Scatcherd began to think that the doctor might now as well go away and leave him to the society of Winterbones and the brandy; but, much as our friend had before expressed himself in a hurry, he now seemed inclined to move very leisurely. He sat there by the bedside, resting his hands on his knees, and gazing unconsciously at the counterpane. At last he gave a deep sigh, and then he said, ‘Scatcherd, you must be more particular in this. If I am to have anything to do with it, you must, indeed, be more explicit.’
‘Why, how the deuce can I be more explicit? Isn’t her eldest living child plain enough, whether he be Jack, or she be Gill?’
‘What did your lawyer say to this, Scatcherd?’
‘Lawyer! You don’t suppose I let my lawyer know what I was putting. No; I got the form and the paper, and all that from him, and had him here, in one room, while Winterbones and I did it in another. It’s all right enough. Though Winterbones wrote it, he did it in such a way he did not know what he was writing.’
The doctor sat a while longer, still looking at the counterpane, and then got up to depart. ‘I’ll see you again soon,’ said he; ‘tomorrow, probably.’
‘Tomorrow!’ said Sir Roger, not at all understanding why Dr Thorne should talk of returning so soon. ‘Tomorrow! why I ain’t so bad as that, man, am I? If you come so often as that you’ll ruin me.’
‘Oh, not as a medical man; not as that; but about this will, Scatcherd. I must think it over; I must, indeed.’
‘You need not give yourself the least trouble in the world about my will till I’m dead; not the least. And who knows – maybe, I may be settling your affairs yet; eh, doctor? looking after your niece when you’re dead and gone, and getting a husband for her, eh? Ha! ha! ha!’
And then, without further speech, the doctor went his way.
CHAPTER XI
The Doctor Drinks his Tea
THE doctor got on his cob and went his way, returning duly to Greshamsbury. But, in truth, as he went he hardly knew whither he was going, or what he was doing. Sir Roger had hinted that the cob would be compelled to make up for lost time by extra exertion on the road; but the cob had never been permitted to have his own way as to pace more satisfactorily than on the present occasion. The doctor, indeed, hardly knew that he was on horseback, so completely was he enveloped in the cloud of his own thoughts.
In the first place, that alternative which it had become him to put before the baronet as one unlikely to occur – that of the speedy death of both father and son – was one which he felt in his heart of hearts might very probably come to pass.
‘The chances are ten to one that such a clause will never be brought to bear.’ This he had said partly to himself, so as to ease the thoughts which came crowding on his brain; partly, also, in pity for the patient and the father. But now that he thought the matter over, he felt that there were no such odds. Were not the odds the other way? Was it not almost probable that both these men might be gathered to their long account within the next four years? One, the elder, was a strong man, indeed; one who might yet live for years to come if he would but give himself fair play. But then, he himself protested, and protested with a truth too