CHAPTER III
Dr Thorne
And thus Dr Thorne became settled for life in the little village ofGreshamsbury. As was then the wont with many country practitioners,and as should be the wont with them all if they consulted their owndignity a little less and the comforts of their customers somewhatmore, he added the business of a dispensing apothecary to that ofphysician. In doing so, he was of course much reviled. Many peoplearound him declared that he could not truly be a doctor, or, at anyrate, a doctor to be so called; and his brethren in the art livingaround him, though they knew that his diplomas, degrees, andcertificates were all _en regle_, rather countenanced the report.There was much about this new-comer which did not endear him to hisown profession. In the first place he was a new-comer, and, as such,was of course to be regarded by other doctors as being _de trop_.Greshamsbury was only fifteen miles from Barchester, where there wasa regular depot of medical skill, and but eight from Silverbridge,where a properly established physician had been in residence for thelast forty years. Dr Thorne's predecessor at Greshamsbury had been ahumble-minded general practitioner, gifted with a due respect forthe physicians of the county; and he, though he had been allowed tophysic the servants, and sometimes the children of Greshamsbury, hadnever had the presumption to put himself on a par with his betters.
Then, also, Dr Thorne, though a graduated physician, though entitledbeyond all dispute to call himself a doctor, according to all thelaws of all the colleges, made it known to the East Barsetshireworld, very soon after he had seated himself at Greshamsbury, thathis rate of pay was to be seven-and-sixpence a visit within acircuit of five miles, with a proportionally increased charge atproportionally increased distances. Now there was something low,mean, unprofessional, and democratic in this; so, at least, said thechildren of Aesculapius gathered together in conclave at Barchester.In the first place, it showed that this Thorne was always thinkingof his money, like an apothecary, as he was; whereas, it would havebehoved him, as a physician, had he had the feelings of a physicianunder his hat, to have regarded his own pursuits in a purelyphilosophical spirit, and to have taken any gain which might haveaccrued as an accidental adjunct to his station in life. A physicianshould take his fee without letting his left hand know what his righthand was doing; it should be taken without a thought, without a look,without a move of the facial muscles; the true physician shouldhardly be aware that the last friendly grasp of the hand had beenmade more precious by the touch of gold. Whereas, that fellow Thornewould lug out half a crown from his breeches pocket and give it inchange for a ten shilling piece. And then it was clear that this manhad no appreciation of the dignity of a learned profession. He mightconstantly be seen compounding medicines in the shop, at the lefthand of his front door; not making experiments philosophically inmateria medica for the benefit of coming ages--which, if he did, heshould have done in the seclusion of his study, far from profaneeyes--but positively putting together common powders for ruralbowels, or spreading vulgar ointments for agricultural ailments.
A man of this sort was not fit society for Dr Fillgrave ofBarchester. That must be admitted. And yet he had been found to befit society for the old squire of Greshamsbury, whose shoe-ribbons DrFillgrave would not have objected to tie; so high did the old squirestand in the county just previous to his death. But the spirit of theLady Arabella was known by the medical profession of Barsetshire, andwhen that good man died it was felt that Thorne's short tenure ofGreshamsbury favour was already over. The Barsetshire regulars were,however, doomed to disappointment. Our doctor had already contrivedto endear himself to the heir; and though there was not even thenmuch personal love between him and the Lady Arabella, he kept hisplace at the great house unmoved, not only in the nursery and in thebedrooms, but also at the squire's dining-table.
Now there was in this, it must be admitted, quite enough to make himunpopular with his brethren; and this feeling was soon shown in amarked and dignified manner. Dr Fillgrave, who had certainly themost respectable professional connexion in the county, who had areputation to maintain, and who was accustomed to meet, on almostequal terms, the great medical baronets from the metropolis at thehouses of the nobility--Dr Fillgrave declined to meet Dr Thorne inconsultation. He exceedingly regretted, he said, most exceedingly,the necessity which he felt of doing so: he had never before hadto perform so painful a duty; but, as a duty which he owed to hisprofession, he must perform it. With every feeling of respect forLady ----, a sick guest at Greshamsbury--and for Mr Gresham, he mustdecline to attend in conjunction with Dr Thorne. If his servicescould be made available under any other circumstances, he would go toGreshamsbury as fast as post-horses could carry him.
Then, indeed, there was war in Barsetshire. If there was on DrThorne's cranium one bump more developed than another, it was that ofcombativeness. Not that the doctor was a bully, or even pugnacious,in the usual sense of the word; he had no disposition to provoke afight, no propense love of quarrelling; but there was that in himwhich would allow him to yield to no attack. Neither in argument norin contest would he ever allow himself to be wrong; never at least toany one but to himself; and on behalf of his special hobbies, he wasready to meet the world at large.
It will therefore be understood, that when such a gauntlet was thusthrown in his very teeth by Dr Fillgrave, he was not slow to take itup. He addressed a letter to the Barsetshire Conservative _Standard_,in which he attacked Dr Fillgrave with some considerable acerbity.Dr Fillgrave responded in four lines, saying that on matureconsideration he had made up his mind not to notice any remarksthat might be made on him by Dr Thorne in the public press. TheGreshamsbury doctor then wrote another letter, more witty and muchmore severe than the last; and as this was copied into the Bristol,Exeter, and Gloucester papers, Dr Fillgrave found it very difficultto maintain the magnanimity of his reticence. It is sometimesbecoming enough for a man to wrap himself in the dignified toga ofsilence, and proclaim himself indifferent to public attacks; but itis a sort of dignity which it is very difficult to maintain. As wellmight a man, when stung to madness by wasps, endeavour to sit in hischair without moving a muscle, as endure with patience and withoutreply the courtesies of a newspaper opponent. Dr Thorne wrote a thirdletter, which was too much for medical flesh and blood to bear. DrFillgrave answered it, not, indeed, in his own name, but in that ofa brother doctor; and then the war raged merrily. It is hardly toomuch to say that Dr Fillgrave never knew another happy hour. Had hedreamed of what materials was made that young compounder of doses atGreshamsbury he would have met him in consultation, morning, noon,and night, without objection but having begun the war, he wasconstrained to go on with it: his brethren would allow him noalternative. Thus he was continually being brought up to the fight,as a prize-fighter may be seen to be, who is carried up round afterround, without any hope on his own part, and who, in each round,drops to the ground before the very wind of his opponent's blows.
But Dr Fillgrave, though thus weak himself, was backed in practiceand in countenance by nearly all his brethren in the county. Theguinea fee, the principle of _giving_ advice and of selling nomedicine, the great resolve to keep a distinct barrier betweenthe physician and the apothecary, and, above all, the hatred ofthe contamination of a bill, were strong in the medical mind ofBarsetshire. Dr Thorne had the provincial medical world against him,and so he appealed to the metropolis. The _Lancet_ took the matter upin his favour, but the _Journal of Medical Science_ was against him;the _Weekly Chirurgeon_, noted for its medical democracy, upheld himas a medical prophet, but the _Scalping Knife_, a monthly periodicalgot up in dead opposition to the _Lancet_, showed him no mercy. Sothe war went on, and our doctor, to a certain extent, became a notedcharacter.
He had, moreover, other difficulties to encounter in his professionalcareer. It was something in his favour that he understood hisbusiness; something that he was willing to labour at it with energy;and resolved to labour at it conscientiously. He had also othergifts, such as conversational brilliancy, an aptitude for truegood fel
lowship, firmness in friendship, and general honesty ofdisposition, which stood him in stead as he advanced in life. But,at his first starting, much that belonged to himself personally wasagainst him. Let him enter what house he would, he entered it with aconviction, often expressed to himself, that he was equal as a man tothe proprietor, equal as a human being to the proprietress. To age hewould allow deference, and to special recognised talent--at least sohe said; to rank also, he would pay that respect which was its clearand recognised prerogative; he would let a lord walk out of a roombefore him if he did not happen to forget it; in speaking to a dukehe would address him as his Grace; and he would in no way assume afamiliarity with bigger men than himself, allowing to the bigger manthe privilege of making the first advances. But beyond this he wouldadmit that no man should walk the earth with his head higher than hisown.
He did not talk of these things much; he offended no rank by boastsof his own equality; he did not absolutely tell the Earl de Courcy inwords, that the privilege of dining at Courcy Castle was to him nogreater than the privilege of dining at Courcy Parsonage; but therewas that in his manner that told it. The feeling in itself wasperhaps good, and was certainly much justified by the manner in whichhe bore himself to those below him in rank; but there was folly inthe resolution to run counter to the world's recognised rules on suchmatters; and much absurdity in his mode of doing so, seeing that atheart he was a thorough Conservative. It is hardly too much to saythat he naturally hated a lord at first sight; but, nevertheless, hewould have expended his means, his blood, and spirit, in fighting forthe upper house of Parliament.
Such a disposition, until it was thoroughly understood, did not tendto ingratiate him with the wives of the country gentlemen among whomhe had to look for practice. And then, also, there was not much inhis individual manner to recommend him to the favour of ladies. Hewas brusque, authoritative, given to contradiction, rough thoughnever dirty in his personal belongings, and inclined to indulgein a sort of quiet raillery, which sometimes was not thoroughlyunderstood. People did not always know whether he was laughingat them or with them; and some people were, perhaps, inclined tothink that a doctor should not laugh at all when called in to actdoctorially.
When he was known, indeed, when the core of the fruit had beenreached, when the huge proportions of that loving trusting heart hadbeen learned, and understood, and appreciated, when that honesty hadbeen recognised, that manly, and almost womanly tenderness had beenfelt, then, indeed, the doctor was acknowledged to be adequate in hisprofession. To trifling ailments he was too often brusque. Seeingthat he accepted money for the cure of such, he should, we may say,have cured them without an offensive manner. So far he is withoutdefence. But to real suffering no one found him brusque; no patientlying painfully on a bed of sickness ever thought him rough.
Another misfortune was, that he was a bachelor. Ladies think, andI, for one, think that ladies are quite right in so thinking, thatdoctors should be married men. All the world feels that a man whenmarried acquires some of the attributes of an old woman--he becomes,to a certain extent, a motherly sort of being; he acquires aconversance with women's ways and women's wants, and loses the wilderand offensive sparks of his virility. It must be easier to talk tosuch a one about Matilda's stomach, and the growing pains in Fanny'slegs, than to a young bachelor. This impediment also stood much in DrThorne's way during his first years at Greshamsbury.
But his wants were not at first great; and though his ambition wasperhaps high, it was not of an impatient nature. The world was hisoyster; but, circumstanced as he was, he knew that it was not for himto open it with his lancet all at once. He had bread to earn, whichhe must earn wearily; he had a character to make, which must comeslowly; it satisfied his soul that, in addition to his immortalhopes, he had a possible future in this world to which he could lookforward with clear eyes, and advance with a heart that would know nofainting.
On his first arrival at Greshamsbury he had been put by the squireinto a house, which he still occupied when that squire's grandsoncame of age. There were two decent, commodious, private houses in thevillage--always excepting the rectory, which stood grandly in its owngrounds, and, therefore, was considered as ranking above the villageresidences--of these two Dr Thorne had the smaller. They stoodexactly at the angle before described, on the outer side of it, andat right angles to each other. They both possessed good stables andample gardens; and it may be as well to specify, that Mr Umbleby, theagent and lawyer to the estate, occupied the larger one.
Here Dr Thorne lived for eleven or twelve years, all alone; andthen for ten or eleven more with his niece, Mary Thorne. Mary wasthirteen when she came to take up permanent abode as mistress of theestablishment--or, at any rate, to act as the only mistress which theestablishment possessed. This advent greatly changed the tenor ofthe doctor's ways. He had been before pure bachelor; not a room inhis house had been comfortably furnished; he at first commenced in amakeshift sort of way, because he had not at his command the means ofcommencing otherwise; and he had gone on in the same fashion, becausethe exact time had never come at which it was imperative in him toset his house in order. He had had no fixed hour for his meals, nofixed place for his books, no fixed wardrobe for his clothes. He hada few bottles of good wine in his cellar, and occasionally asked abrother bachelor to take a chop with him; but beyond this he hadtouched very little on the cares of housekeeping. A slop-bowl full ofstrong tea, together with bread, and butter, and eggs, was producedfor him in the morning, and he expected that at whatever hour hemight arrive in the evening, some food should be presented to himwherewith to satisfy the cravings of nature; if, in addition to this,he had another slop-bowl of tea in the evening, he got all that heever required, or all, at least, that he ever demanded.
But when Mary came, or rather, when she was about to come, thingswere altogether changed at the doctor's. People had hithertowondered--and especially Mrs Umbleby--how a gentleman like Dr Thornecould continue to live in so slovenly a manner; and how people againwondered, and again especially Mrs Umbleby, how the doctor couldpossibly think it necessary to put such a lot of furniture into ahouse because a little chit of a girl of twelve years of age wascoming to live with him.
Mrs Umbleby had great scope for her wonder. The doctor made athorough revolution in his household, and furnished his house fromthe ground to the roof completely. He painted--for the first timesince the commencement of his tenancy--he papered, he carpeted, andcurtained, and mirrored, and linened, and blanketed, as though a MrsThorne with a good fortune were coming home to-morrow; and all for agirl of twelve years old. "And how," said Mrs Umbleby, to her friendMiss Gushing, "how did he find out what to buy?" as though the doctorhad been brought up like a wild beast, ignorant of the nature oftables and chairs, and with no more developed ideas of drawing-roomdrapery than an hippopotamus.
To the utter amazement of Mrs Umbleby and Miss Gushing, the doctordid it all very well. He said nothing about it to any one--he neverdid say much about such things--but he furnished his house well anddiscreetly; and when Mary Thorne came home from her school at Bath,to which she had been taken some six years previously, she foundherself called upon to be the presiding genius of a perfect paradise.
It has been said that the doctor had managed to endear himself to thenew squire before the old squire's death, and that, therefore, thechange at Greshamsbury had had no professional ill effects upon him.Such was the case at the time; but, nevertheless, all did not gosmoothly in the Greshamsbury medical department. There was six orseven years' difference in age between Mr Gresham and the doctor,and, moreover, Mr Gresham was young for his age, and the doctor old;but, nevertheless, there was a very close attachment between themearly in life. This was never thoroughly sundered, and, backed bythis, the doctor did maintain himself for some years before thefire of Lady Arabella's artillery. But drops falling, if they fallconstantly, will bore through a stone.
Dr Thorne's pretensions, mixed with his subversive professionaldemocratic tendencies, his seven-and-s
ixpenny visits, added to hisutter disregard of Lady Arabella's airs, were too much for herspirit. He brought Frank through his first troubles, and that atfirst ingratiated her; he was equally successful with the earlydietary of Augusta and Beatrice; but, as his success was obtainedin direct opposition to the Courcy Castle nursery principles, thishardly did much in his favour. When the third daughter was born,he at once declared that she was a very weakly flower, and sternlyforbade the mother to go to London. The mother, loving her babe,obeyed; but did not the less hate the doctor for the order, whichshe firmly believed was given at the instance and express dictationof Mr Gresham. Then another little girl came into the world, and thedoctor was more imperative than ever as to the nursery rules and theexcellence of country air. Quarrels were thus engendered, and LadyArabella was taught to believe that this doctor of her husband'swas after all no Solomon. In her husband's absence she sent for DrFillgrave, giving very express intimation that he would not have towound either his eyes or dignity by encountering his enemy; and shefound Dr Fillgrave a great comfort to her.
Then Dr Thorne gave Mr Gresham to understand that, under suchcircumstances, he could not visit professionally at Greshamsburyany longer. The poor squire saw there was no help for it, and thoughhe still maintained his friendly connexion with his neighbour,the seven-and-sixpenny visits were at an end. Dr Fillgrave fromBarchester, and the gentleman at Silverbridge, divided theresponsibility between them, and the nursery principles of CourcyCastle were again in vogue at Greshamsbury.
So things went on for years, and those years were years of sorrow.We must not ascribe to our doctor's enemies the sufferings, andsickness, and deaths that occurred. The four frail little ones thatdied would probably have been taken had Lady Arabella been moretolerant of Dr Thorne. But the fact was, that they did die; and thatthe mother's heart then got the better of the woman's pride, and LadyArabella humbled herself before Dr Thorne. She humbled herself, orwould have done so, had the doctor permitted her. But he, with hiseyes full of tears, stopped the utterance of her apology, took hertwo hands in his, pressed them warmly, and assured her that his joyin returning would be great, for the love that he bore to all thatbelonged to Greshamsbury. And so the seven-and-sixpenny visits wererecommenced; and the great triumph of Dr Fillgrave came to an end.
Great was the joy in the Greshamsbury nursery when the second changetook place. Among the doctor's attributes, not hitherto mentioned,was an aptitude for the society of children. He delighted to talk tochildren, and to play with them. He would carry them on his back,three or four at a time, roll with them on the ground, race withthem in the garden, invent games for them, contrive amusements incircumstances which seemed quite adverse to all manner of delight;and, above all, his physic was not nearly so nasty as that which camefrom Silverbridge.
He had a great theory as to the happiness of children; and thoughhe was not disposed altogether to throw over the precepts ofSolomon--always bargaining that he should, under no circumstances,be himself the executioner--he argued that the principal duty whicha parent owed to a child was to make him happy. Not only was the manto be made happy--the future man, if that might be possible--but theexisting boy was to be treated with equal favour; and his happiness,so said the doctor, was of much easier attainment.
"Why struggle after future advantage at the expense of present pain,seeing that the results were so very doubtful?" Many an opponent ofthe doctor had thought to catch him on the hip when so singular adoctrine was broached; but they were not always successful. "What!"said his sensible enemies, "is Johnny not to be taught to readbecause he does not like it?" "Johnny must read by all means," wouldthe doctor answer; "but is it necessary that he should not like it?If the preceptor have it in him, may not Johnny learn, not only toread, but to like to learn to read?"
"But," would say his enemies, "children must be controlled." "And somust men also," would say the doctor. "I must not steal your peaches,nor make love to your wife, nor libel your character. Much as Imight wish through my natural depravity to indulge in such vices,I am debarred from them without pain, and I may almost say withoutunhappiness."
And so the argument went on, neither party convincing the other. But,in the meantime, the children of the neighbourhood became very fondof Dr Thorne.
Dr Thorne and the squire were still fast friends, but circumstanceshad occurred, spreading themselves now over a period of many years,which almost made the poor squire uneasy in the doctor's company. MrGresham owed a large sum of money, and he had, moreover, already solda portion of his property. Unfortunately it had been the pride of theGreshams that their acres had descended from one to another withoutan entail, so that each possessor of Greshamsbury had had the fullpower to dispose of the property as he pleased. Any doubt as toits going to the male heir had never hitherto been felt. It hadoccasionally been encumbered by charges for younger children; butthese charges had been liquidated, and the property had come downwithout any burden to the present squire. Now a portion of this hadbeen sold, and it had been sold to a certain degree through theagency of Dr Thorne.
This made the squire an unhappy man. No man loved his family name andhonour, his old family blazon and standing more thoroughly than hedid; he was every whit a Gresham at heart; but his spirit had beenweaker than that of his forefathers; and, in his days, for the firsttime, the Greshams were to go to the wall! Ten years before thebeginning of our story it had been necessary to raise a large sum ofmoney to meet and pay off pressing liabilities, and it was found thatthis could be done with more material advantage by selling a portionof the property than in any other way. A portion of it, about a thirdof the whole in value, was accordingly sold.
Boxall Hill lay half-way between Greshamsbury and Barchester, and wasknown as having the best partridge shooting in the county; as havingon it also a celebrated fox cover, Boxall Gorse, held in very highrepute by Barsetshire sportsmen. There was no residence on theimmediate estate, and it was altogether divided from the remainder ofthe Greshamsbury property. This, with many inward and outward groans,Mr Gresham permitted to be sold.
It was sold, and sold well, by private contract to a native ofBarchester, who, having risen from the world's ranks, had made forhimself great wealth. Somewhat of this man's character must hereafterbe told; it will suffice to say that he relied for advice in moneymatters upon Dr Thorne, and that at Dr Thorne's suggestion he hadpurchased Boxall Hill, partridge-shooting and gorse cover allincluded. He had not only bought Boxall Hill, but had subsequentlylent the squire large sums of money on mortgage, in all whichtransactions the doctor had taken part. It had therefore come to passthat Mr Gresham was not unfrequently called upon to discuss his moneyaffairs with Dr Thorne, and occasionally to submit to lectures andadvice which might perhaps as well have been omitted.
So much for Dr Thorne. A few words must still be said about Miss Marybefore we rush into our story; the crust will then have been broken,and the pie will be open to the guests. Little Miss Mary was kept ata farm-house till she was six; she was then sent to school at Bath,and transplanted to the doctor's newly furnished house a little morethan six years after that. It must not be supposed that he had lostsight of his charge during her earlier years. He was much too wellaware of the nature of the promise which he had made to the departingmother to do that. He had constantly visited his little niece, andlong before the first twelve years of her life were over had lost allconsciousness of his promise, and of his duty to the mother, in thestronger ties of downright personal love for the only creature thatbelonged to him.
When Mary came home the doctor was like a child in his glee. Heprepared surprises for her with as much forethought and trouble asthough he were contriving mines to blow up an enemy. He took herfirst into the shop, and then into the kitchen, thence to thedining-rooms, after that to his and her bedrooms, and so on tillhe came to the full glory of the new drawing-room, enhancing thepleasure by little jokes, and telling her that he should never dareto come into the last paradise without her permission, and not thentill he had ta
ken off his boots. Child as she was, she understood thejoke, and carried it on like a little queen; and so they soon becamethe firmest of friends.
But though Mary was a queen, it was still necessary that she shouldbe educated. Those were the earlier days in which Lady Arabella hadhumbled herself, and to show her humility she invited Mary to sharethe music-lessons of Augusta and Beatrice at the great house. Amusic-master from Barchester came over three times a week, andremained for three hours, and if the doctor chose to send his girlover, she could pick up what was going on without doing any harm.So said the Lady Arabella. The doctor with many thanks and with nohesitation, accepted the offer, merely adding, that he had perhapsbetter settle separately with Signor Cantabili, the music-master. Hewas very much obliged to Lady Arabella for giving his little girlpermission to join her lessons to those of the Miss Greshams.
It need hardly be said that the Lady Arabella was on fire at once.Settle with Signor Cantabili! No, indeed; she would do that; theremust be no expense whatever incurred in such an arrangement on MissThorne's account! But here, as in most things, the doctor carried hispoint. It being the time of the lady's humility, she could not makeas good a fight as she would otherwise have done; and thus shefound, to her great disgust, that Mary Thorne was learning music inher schoolroom on equal terms, as regarded payment, with her owndaughters. The arrangement having been made could not be broken,especially as the young lady in nowise made herself disagreeable; andmore especially as the Miss Greshams themselves were very fond ofher.
And so Mary Thorne learnt music at Greshamsbury, and with her musicshe learnt other things also; how to behave herself among girls ofher own age; how to speak and talk as other young ladies do; how todress herself, and how to move and walk. All which, she, being quickto learn, learnt without trouble at the great house. Something alsoshe learnt of French, seeing that the Greshamsbury French governesswas always in the room.
And then, some few years later, there came a rector, and a rector'ssister; and with the latter Mary studied German, and French also.From the doctor himself she learnt much; the choice, namely, ofEnglish books for her own reading, and habits of thought somewhatakin to his own, though modified by the feminine softness of herindividual mind.
And so Mary Thorne grew up and was educated. Of her personalappearance it certainly is my business as an author to say something.She is my heroine, and, as such, must necessarily be very beautiful;but, in truth, her mind and inner qualities are more clearly distinctto my brain than her outward form and features. I know that she wasfar from being tall, and far from being showy; that her feet andhands were small and delicate; that her eyes were bright when lookedat, but not brilliant so as to make their brilliancy palpablyvisible to all around her; her hair was dark brown, and worn veryplainly brushed from her forehead; her lips were thin, and hermouth, perhaps, in general inexpressive, but when she was eager inconversation it would show itself to be animated with curves ofwondrous energy; and, quiet as she was in manner, sober and demure aswas her usual settled appearance, she could talk, when the fit cameon her, with an energy which in truth surprised those who did notknow her; aye, and sometimes those who did. Energy! nay, it wasoccasionally a concentration of passion, which left her for themoment perfectly unconscious of all other cares but solicitude forthat subject which she might then be advocating.
All her friends, including the doctor, had at times been made unhappyby this vehemence of character; but yet it was to that very vehemencethat she owed it that all her friends so loved her. It had oncenearly banished her in early years from the Greshamsbury schoolroom;and yet it ended in making her claim to remain there so strong, thatLady Arabella could no longer oppose it, even when she had the wishto do so.
A new French governess had lately come to Greshamsbury, and was, orwas to be, a great pet with Lady Arabella, having all the great giftswith which a governess can be endowed, and being also a protegeefrom the castle. The castle, in Greshamsbury parlance, always meantthat of Courcy. Soon after this a valued little locket belonging toAugusta Gresham was missing. The French governess had objected to itsbeing worn in the schoolroom, and it had been sent up to the bedroomby a young servant-girl, the daughter of a small farmer on theestate. The locket was missing, and after a while, a considerablenoise in the matter having been made, was found, by the diligence ofthe governess, somewhere among the belongings of the English servant.Great was the anger of Lady Arabella, loud were the protestationsof the girl, mute the woe of her father, piteous the tears of hermother, inexorable the judgment of the Greshamsbury world. Butsomething occurred, it matters now not what, to separate Mary Thornein opinion from that world at large. Out she then spoke, and to herface accused the governess of the robbery. For two days Mary was indisgrace almost as deep as that of the farmer's daughter. But she wasneither quiet nor dumb in her disgrace. When Lady Arabella would nothear her, she went to Mr Gresham. She forced her uncle to move in thematter. She gained over to her side, one by one, the potentates ofthe parish, and ended by bringing Mam'selle Larron down on her kneeswith a confession of the facts. From that time Mary Thorne was dearto the tenantry of Greshamsbury; and specially dear at one smallhousehold, where a rough-spoken father of a family was often heard todeclare, that for Miss Mary Thorne he'd face man or magistrate, dukeor devil.
And so Mary Thorne grew up under the doctor's eye, and at thebeginning of our tale she was one of the guests assembled atGreshamsbury on the coming of age of the heir, she herself havingthen arrived at the same period of her life.