Doctor Thorne by Anthony Trollope (interesting books to read TXT) 📖

way of sauntering up to the great

house, sauntering into the drawing-room for the purpose, as I am sure

he thought, of talking to Lady Arabella, and then of sauntering home

again, having usually found an opportunity for saying a few words to

Beatrice during the visit. This went on all through the feud up to

the period of Lady Arabella’s illness; and then one morning, about

a month before the date fixed for Frank’s return, Mr Oriel found

himself engaged to Miss Beatrice Gresham.

 

From the day that Miss Gushing heard of it—which was not however

for some considerable time after this—she became an Independent

Methodist. She could no longer, she said at first, have any faith in

any religion; and for an hour or so she was almost tempted to swear

that she could no longer have any faith in any man. She had nearly

completed a worked cover for a credence-table when the news reached

her, as to which, in the young enthusiasm of her heart, she had not

been able to remain silent; it had already been promised to Mr Oriel;

that promise she swore should not be kept. He was an apostate, she

said, from his principles; an utter pervert; a false, designing man,

with whom she would never have trusted herself alone on dark mornings

had she known that he had such grovelling, worldly inclinations. So

Miss Gushing became an Independent Methodist; the credence-table

covering was cut up into slippers for the preacher’s feet; and the

young thing herself, more happy in this direction than she had been

in the other, became the arbiter of that preacher’s domestic

happiness.

 

But this little history of Miss Gushing’s future life is premature.

Mr Oriel became engaged demurely, nay, almost silently, to Beatrice,

and no one out of their own immediate families was at the time

informed of the matter. It was arranged very differently from those

two other matches—embryo, or not embryo, those, namely, of Augusta

with Mr Moffat, and Frank with Mary Thorne. All Barsetshire had heard

of them; but that of Beatrice and Mr Oriel was managed in a much more

private manner.

 

“I do think you are a happy girl,” said Patience to her one morning.

 

“Indeed I am.”

 

“He is so good. You don’t know how good he is as yet; he never thinks

of himself, and thinks so much of those he loves.”

 

Beatrice took her friend’s hand in her own and kissed it. She was

full of joy. When a girl is about to be married, when she may

lawfully talk of her love, there is no music in her ears so sweet as

the praises of her lover.

 

“I made up my mind from the first that he should marry you.”

 

“Nonsense, Patience.”

 

“I did, indeed. I made up my mind that he should marry; and there

were only two to choose from.”

 

“Me and Miss Gushing,” said Beatrice, laughing.

 

“No; not exactly Miss Gushing. I had not many fears for Caleb there.”

 

“I declare she’s very pretty,” said Beatrice, who could afford to be

good-natured. Now Miss Gushing certainly was pretty; and would have

been very pretty had her nose not turned up so much, and could she

have parted her hair in the centre.

 

“Well, I am very glad you chose me;—if it was you who chose,” said

Beatrice, modestly; having, however, in her own mind a strong opinion

that Mr Oriel had chosen for himself, and had never had any doubt in

the matter. “And who was the other?”

 

“Can’t you guess?”

 

“I won’t guess any more; perhaps Mrs Green.”

 

“Oh, no; certainly not a widow. I don’t like widows marrying. But of

course you could guess if you would; of course it was Mary Thorne.

But I soon saw Mary would not do, for two reasons; Caleb would never

have liked her well enough nor would she ever have liked him.”

 

“Not like him! oh I hope she will; I do so love Mary Thorne.”

 

“So do I, dearly; and so does Caleb; but he could never have loved

her as he loves you.”

 

“But, Patience, have you told Mary?”

 

“No, I have told no one, and shall not without your leave.”

 

“Ah, you must tell her. Tell it her with my best, and kindest,

warmest love. Tell her how happy I am, and how I long to talk to

her. Tell that I will have her for my bridesmaid. Oh! I do hope that

before that all this horrid quarrel will be settled.”

 

Patience undertook the commission, and did tell Mary; did give her

also the message which Beatrice had sent. And Mary was rejoiced to

hear it; for though, as Patience had said of her, she had never

herself felt any inclination to fall in love with Mr Oriel, she

believed him to be one in whose hands her friend’s happiness would be

secure. Then, by degrees, the conversation changed from the loves of

Mr Oriel and Beatrice to the troubles of Frank Gresham and herself.

 

“She says, that let what will happen you shall be one of her

bridesmaids.”

 

“Ah, yes, dear Trichy! that was settled between us in auld lang syne;

but those settlements are all unsettled now, must all be broken. No,

I cannot be her bridesmaid; but I shall yet hope to see her once

before her marriage.”

 

“And why not be her bridesmaid? Lady Arabella will hardly object to

that.”

 

“Lady Arabella!” said Mary, curling her lip with deep scorn. “I do

not care that for Lady Arabella,” and she let her silver thimble fall

from her fingers on to the table. “If Beatrice invited me to her

wedding, she might manage as to that; I should ask no question as to

Lady Arabella.”

 

“Then why not come to it?”

 

She remained silent for a while, and then boldly answered. “Though I

do not care for Lady Arabella, I do care for Mr Gresham:—and I do

care for his son.”

 

“But the squire always loved you.”

 

“Yes, and therefore I will not be there to vex his sight. I will tell

you the truth, Patience. I can never be in that house again till

Frank Gresham is a married man, or till I am about to be a married

woman. I do not think they have treated me well, but I will not treat

them ill.”

 

“I am sure you will not do that,” said Miss Oriel.

 

“I will endeavour not to do so; and, therefore, will go to none of

their fêtes! No, Patience.” And then she turned her head to the arm

of the sofa, and silently, without audible sobs, hiding her face, she

endeavoured to get rid of her tears unseen. For one moment she had

all but resolved to pour out the whole truth of her love into her

friend’s ears; but suddenly she changed her mind. Why should she talk

of her own unhappiness? Why should she speak of her own love when she

was fully determined not to speak of Frank’s promises.

 

“Mary, dear Mary.”

 

“Anything but pity, Patience; anything but that,” said she,

convulsively, swallowing down her sobs, and rubbing away her tears.

“I cannot bear that. Tell Beatrice from me, that I wish her every

happiness; and, with such a husband, I am sure she will be happy. I

wish her every joy; give her my kindest love; but tell her I cannot

be at her marriage. Oh, I should so like to see her; not there, you

know, but here, in my own room, where I still have liberty to speak.”

 

“But why should you decide now? She is not to be married yet, you

know.”

 

“Now, or this day twelvemonth, can make no difference. I will not go

into that house again, unless—but never mind; I will not go into it

all; never, never again. If I could forgive her for myself, I could

not forgive her for my uncle. But tell me, Patience, might not

Beatrice now come here? It is so dreadful to see her every Sunday in

church and never to speak to her, never to kiss her. She seems to

look away from me as though she too had chosen to quarrel with me.”

 

Miss Oriel promised to do her best. She could not imagine, she said,

that such a visit could be objected to on such an occasion. She would

not advise Beatrice to come without telling her mother; but she

could not think that Lady Arabella would be so cruel as to make any

objection, knowing, as she could not but know, that her daughter,

when married, would be at liberty to choose her own friends.

 

“Good-bye, Mary,” said Patience. “I wish I knew how to say more to

comfort you.”

 

“Oh, comfort! I don’t want comfort. I want to be let alone.”

 

“That’s just it: you are so ferocious in your scorn, so unbending, so

determined to take all the punishment that comes in your way.”

 

“What I do take, I’ll take without complaint,” said Mary; and then

they kissed each other and parted.