CHAPTER XL
The Two Doctors Change Patients
Dr Fillgrave still continued his visits to Greshamsbury, for LadyArabella had not yet mustered the courage necessary for swallowingher pride and sending once more for Dr Thorne. Nothing pleased DrFillgrave more than those visits.
He habitually attended grander families, and richer people; but then,he had attended them habitually. Greshamsbury was a prize taken fromthe enemy; it was his rock of Gibraltar, of which he thought muchmore than of any ordinary Hampshire or Wiltshire which had alwaysbeen within his own kingdom.
He was just starting one morning with his post-horses forGreshamsbury, when an impudent-looking groom, with a crooked nose,trotted up to his door. For Joe still had a crooked nose, all thedoctor's care having been inefficacious to remedy the evil effectsof Bridget's little tap with the rolling-pin. Joe had no writtencredentials, for his master was hardly equal to writing, andLady Scatcherd had declined to put herself into further personalcommunication with Dr Fillgrave; but he had effrontery enough todeliver any message.
"Be you Dr Fillgrave?" said Joe, with one finger just raised to hiscocked hat.
"Yes," said Dr Fillgrave, with one foot on the step of the carriage,but pausing at the sight of so well-turned-out a servant. "Yes; I amDr Fillgrave."
"Then you be to go to Boxall Hill immediately; before anywhere else."
"Boxall Hill!" said the doctor, with a very angry frown.
"Yes; Boxall Hill: my master's place--my master is Sir LouisScatcherd, baronet. You've heard of him, I suppose?"
Dr Fillgrave had not his mind quite ready for such an occasion. So hewithdrew his foot from the carriage step, and rubbing his hands oneover another, looked at his own hall door for inspiration. A singleglance at his face was sufficient to show that no ordinary thoughtswere being turned over within his breast.
"Well!" said Joe, thinking that his master's name had not altogetherproduced the magic effect which he had expected; remembering, also,how submissive Greyson had always been, who, being a London doctor,must be supposed to be a bigger man than this provincial fellow."Do you know as how my master is dying, very like, while you standthere?"
"What is your master's disease?" said the doctor, facing Joe, slowly,and still rubbing his hands. "What ails him? What is the matter withhim?"
"Oh; the matter with him? Well, to say it out at once then, he dotake a drop too much at times, and then he has the horrors--what isit they call it? delicious beam-ends, or something of that sort."
"Oh, ah, yes; I know; and tell me, my man, who is attending him?"
"Attending him? why, I do, and his mother, that is, her ladyship."
"Yes; but what medical attendant: what doctor?"
"Why, there was Greyson, in London, and--"
"Greyson!" and the doctor looked as though a name so medicinallyhumble had never before struck the tympanum of his ear.
"Yes; Greyson. And then, down at what's the name of the place, therewas Thorne."
"Greshamsbury?"
"Yes; Greshamsbury. But he and Thorne didn't hit it off; and so sincethat he has had no one but myself."
"I will be at Boxall Hill in the course of the morning," said DrFillgrave; "or, rather, you may say, that I will be there at once: Iwill take it in my way." And having thus resolved, he gave his ordersthat the post-horses should make such a detour as would enable himto visit Boxall Hill on his road. "It is impossible," said he tohimself, "that I should be twice treated in such a manner in the samehouse."
He was not, however, altogether in a comfortable frame of mind as hewas driven up to the hall door. He could not but remember the smileof triumph with which his enemy had regarded him in that hall; hecould not but think how he had returned fee-less to Barchester, andhow little he had gained in the medical world by rejecting LadyScatcherd's bank-note. However, he also had had his triumphs sincethat. He had smiled scornfully at Dr Thorne when he had seen him inthe Greshamsbury street; and had been able to tell, at twenty housesthrough the county, how Lady Arabella had at last been obliged toplace herself in his hands. And he triumphed again when he foundhimself really standing by Sir Louis Scatcherd's bedside. As for LadyScatcherd, she did not even show herself. She kept in her own littleroom, sending out Hannah to ask him up the stairs; and she only justgot a peep at him through the door as she heard the medical creak ofhis shoes as he again descended.
We need say but little of his visit to Sir Louis. It matterednothing now, whether it was Thorne, or Greyson, or Fillgrave. And DrFillgrave knew that it mattered nothing: he had skill at least forthat--and heart enough also to feel that he would fain have beenrelieved from this task; would fain have left this patient in thehands even of Dr Thorne.
The name which Joe had given to his master's illness was certainlynot a false one. He did find Sir Louis "in the horrors." If anyfather have a son whose besetting sin is a passion for alcohol, lethim take his child to the room of a drunkard when possessed by "thehorrors." Nothing will cure him if not that.
I will not disgust my reader by attempting to describe the poorwretch in his misery: the sunken, but yet glaring eyes; the emaciatedcheeks; the fallen mouth; the parched, sore lips; the face, now dryand hot, and then suddenly clammy with drops of perspiration theshaking hand, and all but palsied limbs; and worse than this, thefearful mental efforts, and the struggles for drink; struggles towhich it is often necessary to give way.
Dr Fillgrave soon knew what was to be the man's fate; but he did whathe might to relieve it. There, in one big, best bedroom, looking outto the north, lay Sir Louis Scatcherd, dying wretchedly. There, inthe other big, best bedroom, looking out to the south, had died theother baronet about a twelvemonth since, and each a victim to thesame sin. To this had come the prosperity of the house of Scatcherd!
And then Dr Fillgrave went on to Greshamsbury. It was a long day'swork, both for himself and the horses; but then, the triumph of beingdragged up that avenue compensated for both the expense and thelabour. He always put on his sweetest smile as he came near the halldoor, and rubbed his hands in the most complaisant manner of which heknew. It was seldom that he saw any of the family but Lady Arabella;but then he desired to see none other, and when he left her in a goodhumour, was quite content to take his glass of sherry and eat hislunch by himself.
On this occasion, however, the servant at once asked him to go intothe dining-room, and there he found himself in the presence of FrankGresham. The fact was, that Lady Arabella, having at last decided,had sent for Dr Thorne; and it had become necessary that some oneshould be entrusted with the duty of informing Dr Fillgrave. Thatsome one must be the squire, or Frank. Lady Arabella would doubtlesshave preferred a messenger more absolutely friendly to her own sideof the house; but such messenger there was none: she could not sendMr Gazebee to see her doctor, and so, of the two evils, she chose theleast.
"Dr Fillgrave," said Frank, shaking hands with him very cordially ashe came up, "my mother is so much obliged to you for all your careand anxiety on her behalf! and, so indeed, are we all."
The doctor shook hands with him very warmly. This little expressionof a family feeling on his behalf was the more gratifying, as he hadalways thought that the males of the Greshamsbury family were stillwedded to that pseudo-doctor, that half-apothecary who lived in thevillage.
"It has been awfully troublesome to you, coming over all this way, Iam sure. Indeed, money could not pay for it; my mother feels that. Itmust cut up your time so much."
"Not at all, Mr Gresham; not at all," said the Barchester doctor,rising up on his toes proudly as he spoke. "A person of your mother'simportance, you know! I should be happy to go any distance to seeher."
"Ah! but, Dr Fillgrave, we cannot allow that."
"Mr Gresham, don't mention it."
"Oh, yes; but I must," said Frank, who thought that he had doneenough for civility, and was now anxious to come to the point. "Thefact is, doctor, that we are very much obliged for what you havedone; but, for the future, my mother thinks
she can trust to suchassistance as she can get here in the village."
Frank had been particularly instructed to be very careful how hementioned Dr Thorne's name, and, therefore, cleverly avoided it.
Get what assistance she wanted in the village! What words were thosethat he heard? "Mr Gresham, eh--hem--perhaps I do not completely--"Yes, alas! he had completely understood what Frank had meant that heshould understand. Frank desired to be civil, but he had no idea ofbeating unnecessarily about the bush on such an occasion as this.
"It's by Sir Omicron's advice, Dr Fillgrave. You see, this manhere"--and he nodded his head towards the doctor's house, being stillanxious not to pronounce the hideous name--"has known my mother'sconstitution for so many years."
"Oh, Mr Gresham; of course, if it is wished."
"Yes, Dr Fillgrave, it is wished. Lunch is coming directly:" andFrank rang the bell.
"Nothing, I thank you, Mr Gresham."
"Do take a glass of sherry."
"Nothing at all, I am very much obliged to you."
"Won't you let the horses get some oats?"
"I will return at once, if you please, Mr Gresham." And the doctordid return, taking with him, on this occasion, the fee that wasoffered to him. His experience had at any rate taught him so much.
But though Frank could do this for Lady Arabella, he could notreceive Dr Thorne on her behalf. The bitterness of that interview hadto be borne by herself. A messenger had been sent for him, and he wasupstairs with her ladyship while his rival was receiving his _conge_downstairs. She had two objects to accomplish, if it might bepossible: she had found that high words with the doctor were ofno avail; but it might be possible that Frank could be saved byhumiliation on her part. If she humbled herself before this man,would he consent to acknowledge that his niece was not the fit bridefor the heir of Greshamsbury?
The doctor entered the room where she was lying on her sofa, andwalking up to her with a gentle, but yet not constrained step,took the seat beside her little table, just as he had always beenaccustomed to do, and as though there had been no break in theirintercourse.
"Well, doctor, you see that I have come back to you," she said, witha faint smile.
"Or, rather I have come back to you. And, believe me, Lady Arabella,I am very happy to do so. There need be no excuses. You were,doubtless, right to try what other skill could do; and I hope it hasnot been tried in vain."
She had meant to have been so condescending; but now all that was putquite beyond her power. It was not easy to be condescending to thedoctor: she had been trying all her life, and had never succeeded.
"I have had Sir Omicron Pie," she said.
"So I was glad to hear. Sir Omicron is a clever man, and has a goodname. I always recommend Sir Omicron myself."
"And Sir Omicron returns the compliment," said she, smilinggracefully, "for he recommends you. He told Mr Gresham that I wasvery foolish to quarrel with my best friend. So now we are friendsagain, are we not? You see how selfish I am." And she put out herhand to him.
The doctor took her hand cordially, and assured her that he bore herno ill-will; that he fully understood her conduct--and that he hadnever accused her of selfishness. This was all very well and verygracious; but, nevertheless, Lady Arabella felt that the doctorkept the upper hand in those sweet forgivenesses. Whereas, she hadintended to keep the upper hand, at least for a while, so that herhumiliation might be more effective when it did come.
And then the doctor used his surgical lore, as he well knew how touse it. There was an assured confidence about him, an air whichseemed to declare that he really knew what he was doing. Thesewere very comfortable to his patients, but they were wanting in DrFillgrave. When he had completed his examinations and questions,and she had completed her little details and made her answer, shecertainly was more at ease than she had been since the doctor hadlast left her.
"Don't go yet for a moment," she said. "I have one word to say toyou."
He declared that he was not the least in a hurry. He desired nothingbetter, he said, than to sit there and talk to her. "And I owe you amost sincere apology, Lady Arabella."
"A sincere apology!" said she, becoming a little red. Was he going tosay anything about Mary? Was he going to own that he, and Mary, andFrank had all been wrong?
"Yes, indeed. I ought not to have brought Sir Louis Scatcherd here: Iought to have known that he would have disgraced himself."
"Oh! it does not signify," said her ladyship in a tone almost ofdisappointment. "I had forgotten it. Mr Gresham and you had moreinconvenience than we had."
"He is an unfortunate, wretched man--most unfortunate; with animmense fortune which he can never live to possess."
"And who will the money go to, doctor?"
This was a question for which Dr Thorne was hardly prepared. "Go to?"he repeated. "Oh, some member of the family, I believe. There areplenty of nephews and nieces."
"Yes; but will it be divided, or all go to one?"
"Probably to one, I think. Sir Roger had a strong idea of leavingit all in one hand." If it should happen to be a girl, thought LadyArabella, what an excellent opportunity would that be for Frank tomarry money!
"And now, doctor, I want to say one word to you; considering the verylong time that we have known each other, it is better that I shouldbe open with you. This estrangement between us and dear Mary hasgiven us all so much pain. Cannot we do anything to put an end toit?"
"Well, what can I say, Lady Arabella? That depends so wholly onyourself."
"If it depends on me, it shall be done at once."
The doctor bowed. And though he could hardly be said to do sostiffly, he did it coldly. His bow seemed to say, "Certainly; if youchoose to make a proper _amende_ it can be done. But I think it isvery unlikely that you will do so."
"Beatrice is just going to be married, you know that, doctor." Thedoctor said that he did know it. "And it will be so pleasant thatMary should make one of us. Poor Beatrice; you don't know what shehas suffered."
"Yes," said the doctor, "there has been suffering, I am sure;suffering on both sides."
"You cannot wonder that we should be so anxious about Frank, DrThorne; an only son, and the heir to an estate that has been so verylong in the family:" and Lady Arabella put her handkerchief to hereyes, as though these facts were in themselves melancholy, and notto be thought of by a mother without some soft tears. "Now I wishyou could tell me what your views are, in a friendly manner, betweenourselves. You won't find me unreasonable."
"My views, Lady Arabella?"
"Yes, doctor; about your niece, you know: you must have views of somesort; that's of course. It occurs to me, that perhaps we are all inthe dark together. If so, a little candid speaking between you and memay set it all right."
Lady Arabella's career had not hitherto been conspicuous for candour,as far as Dr Thorne had been able to judge of it; but that was noreason why he should not respond to so very becoming an invitationon her part. He had no objection to a little candid speaking; atleast, so he declared. As to his views with regard to Mary, they weremerely these: that he would make her as happy and comfortable as hecould while she remained with him; and that he would give her hisblessing--for he had nothing else to give her--when she left him;--ifever she should do so.
Now, it will be said that the doctor was not very candid in this;not more so, perhaps, than was Lady Arabella herself. But when oneis specially invited to be candid, one is naturally set upon one'sguard. Those who by disposition are most open, are apt to becomecrafty when so admonished. When a man says to you, "Let us be candidwith each other," you feel instinctively that he desires to squeezeyou without giving a drop of water himself.
"Yes; but about Frank," said Lady Arabella.
"About Frank!" said the doctor, with an innocent look, which herladyship could hardly interpret.
"What I mean is this: can you give me your word that these youngpeople do not intend to do anything rash? One word like that fromyou will set my mind quite at rest
. And then we could be so happytogether again."
"Ah! who is to answer for what rash things a young man will do?" saidthe doctor, smiling.
Lady Arabella got up from the sofa, and pushed away the little table.The man was false, hypocritical, and cunning. Nothing could be madeof him. They were all in a conspiracy together to rob her of her sonto make him marry without money! What should she do? Where shouldshe turn for advice or counsel? She had nothing more to say to thedoctor; and he, perceiving that this was the case, took his leave.This little attempt to achieve candour had not succeeded.
Dr Thorne had answered Lady Arabella as had seemed best to him on thespur of the moment; but he was by no means satisfied with himself.As he walked away through the gardens, he bethought himself whetherit would be better for all parties if he could bring himself to bereally candid. Would it not be better for him at once to tell thesquire what were the future prospects of his niece, and let thefather agree to the marriage, or not agree to it, as he might thinkfit. But then, if so, if he did do this, would he not in fact say,"There is my niece, there is this girl of whom you have been talkingfor the last twelvemonth, indifferent to what agony of mind you mayhave occasioned to her; there she is, a probable heiress! It may beworth your son's while to wait a little time, and not cast her offtill he shall know whether she be an heiress or no. If it shall turnout that she is rich, let him take her; if not, why, he can deserther then as well as now." He could not bring himself to put his nieceinto such a position as this. He was anxious enough that she shouldbe Frank Gresham's wife, for he loved Frank Gresham; he was anxiousenough, also, that she should give to her husband the means of savingthe property of his family. But Frank, though he might find her rich,was bound to take her while she was poor.
Then, also, he doubted whether he would be justified in speakingof this will at all. He almost hated the will for the trouble andvexation it had given him, and the constant stress it had laid on hisconscience. He had spoken of it as yet to no one, and he thought thathe was resolved not to do so while Sir Louis should yet be in theland of the living.
On reaching home, he found a note from Lady Scatcherd, informing himthat Dr Fillgrave had once more been at Boxall Hill, and that, onthis occasion, he had left the house without anger.
"I don't know what he has said about Louis," she added, "for, totell the truth, doctor, I was afraid to see him. But he comes againto-morrow, and then I shall be braver. But I fear that my poor boy isin a bad way."