We must now go back a little and describe how Frank had been sent off on special business to London. The household at Greshamsbury was at this time in but a doleful state. It seemed to be pervaded, from the squire down to the scullery-maid, with a feeling that things were not going well; and men and women, in spite of Beatrice's coming marriage, were grim-visaged, and dolorous. Mr Mortimer Gazebee, rejected though he had been, still, went and came, talking much to the squire, much also to her ladyship, as to the ill-doings which were in the course of projection by Sir Louis; and Frank went about the house with clouded brow, as though finally resolved to neglect his one great duty.
Poor Beatrice was robbed of half her joy; over and over again her brother asked her whether she had yet seen Mary, and she was obliged as often to answer that she had not. Indeed, she did not dare to visit her friend, for it was hardly possible that they should sympathize with each other. Mary was, to say the least, stubborn in her pride; and Beatrice, though she could forgive her friend for loving her brother, could not forgive the obstinacy with which Mary persisted in a course which, as Beatrice thought, she herself knew to be wrong.
And then Mr Gazebee came down from town, with an intimation that it behoved the squire himself to go up that he might see certain learned pundits, and be badgered in his own person at various dingy, dismal chambers in Lincoln's Inn Fields, the Temple, and Gray's Inn Lane. It was an invitation exactly of that sort which a good many years ago was given to a certain duck.
'Will you, will you--will you, will you--come and be killed?' Although Mr Gazebee urged the matter with such eloquence, the squire remained steady to his objection, and swam obstinately about his Greshamsbury pond in any direction save that which seemed to lead towards London.
This occurred on the very evening of that Friday which had witnessed the Lady Arabella's last visit to Dr Thorne's house. The question of the squire's necessary journey to the great fountains of justice was, of course, discussed between Lady Arabella and Mr Gazebee; and it occurred to the former, full as she was of Frank's iniquity and of Mary's obstinacy, that if Frank were sent up in lieu of his father, it would separate them at least for a while. If she could only get Frank away without seeing his love, she might yet so work upon him, by means of the message which Mary had sent, as to postpone, if not break off, this hateful match. It was inconceivable that a youth of twenty-three, and such a youth as Frank, should be obstinately constant to a girl possessed of no great beauty--so argued Lady Arabella to herself--and who had neither wealth, birth, nor fashion to recommend her.
And this it was at last settled--the squire being a willing partner to the agreement--that Frank should go up and be badgered in lieu of his father. At his age it was possible to make a thing desirable, if not necessary--on account of the importance conveyed--to sit day after day in the chambers of Messrs Slow & Bideawhile, and hear musty law talk, and finger dusty law parchments. The squire had made many visits to Messrs Slow & Bideawhile, and he knew better. Frank had not hitherto been there on his own bottom, and thus he fell easily into the trap.
Mr Oriel was also going to London, and this was another reason for sending Frank. Mr Oriel had business of great importance, which it was quite necessary that he should execute before his marriage. How much of this business consisted in going to his tailor, buying a wedding-ring, and purchasing some other more costly present for Beatrice, we need not here inquire. But Mr Oriel was quite on Lady Arabella's side with reference to this mad engagement, and as Frank and he were now fast friends, some good might be done in that way. 'If we all caution him against it, he can hardly withstand us all!' said Lady Arabella to herself.
The matter was broached to Frank on the Saturday evening, and settled between them all on the same night. Nothing, of course, was at that moment said about Mary; but Lady Arabella was too full of the subject to let him go to London without telling him that Mary was ready to recede if only he would allow her to do so. About eleven o'clock, Frank was sitting in his own room, coming over the difficulties of the situation--thinking of his father's troubles, his own position--when he was roused from his reverie by a slight tap at the door.
'Come in,' he said somewhat loudly. He thought it was one of his sisters, who were apt to visit him at all hours and for all manner of reasons; and he, though he was usually gentle to them, was not at present exactly in a humour to be disturbed.
The door gently opened, and he saw his mother standing hesitating in the passage.
'Can I come in, Frank?' said she.
'Oh, yes, mother; by all means:' and then, with some surprise marked in his countenance, he prepared a seat for her. Such a visit as this from Lady Arabella was very unusual; so much so, that he had probably not seen her in his own room since the day when he first left school. He had nothing, however, to be ashamed of; nothing to conceal unless it were an open letter from Miss Dunstable which he had in his hand when she entered, and which he somewhat hurriedly thrust into his pocket.
'I wanted to say a few words to you, Frank, before you start for London about this business.' Frank signified by a gesture, that he was quite ready to listen to her.
'I am so glad to see your father putting the matter into your hands. You are younger than he is; and then--I don't know why, but somehow your father has never been a good man of business--everything has gone wrong with him.'
'Oh, mother! do not say anything against him.'
'No, Frank, I will not; I do not wish it. Things have been unfortunate, certainly. Ah me! I little thought when I married--but I don't mean to complain--I have excellent children, and I ought to be thankful for that.'
