Frank returned home, and his immediate business was of course with his father, and with Mr Gazebee, who was still at Greshamsbury.
'But who is the heir?' asked Mr Gazebee, when Frank had explained that the death of Sir Louis rendered unnecessary any immediate legal steps.
'Upon my word, I don't know,' said Frank.
'You saw Dr Thorne,' said the squire. 'He must have known.'
'I never thought of asking him,' said Frank, naively.
Mr Gazebee looked rather solemn. 'I wonder at that,' said he; 'for everything depends on the hands the property will go into. Let me see; I think Sir Roger had a married sister. Was not that so, Mr Gresham?' And then it occurred for the first time, both to the squire and to his son, that Mary Thorne was the eldest child of this sister. But it never occurred to either of them that Mary could be the baronet's heir.
Dr Thorne came down for a couple of days before the fortnight was over to see his patients, and then returned again to London. But during this short visit he was utterly dumb on the subject of the heir. He called at Greshamsbury to see Lady Arabella, and was even questioned by the squire on the subject. But he obstinately refused to say anything more than nothing certain could be known for a few days.
Immediately after his return, Frank saw Mary, and told her all that had happened. 'I cannot understand my uncle,' said she, almost trembling as she stood close to him in her own drawing-room. 'He usually hates mysteries, and yet now he is so mysterious. He told me, Frank--that was after I had written that unfortunate letter--'
'Unfortunate indeed! I wonder what you really thought of me when you were writing it?'
'If you had heard what your mother said, you would not be surprised.
But, after that, uncle said--'
'Said what?'
'He seemed to think--I don't remember what it was he said. But he said, he hoped that things might yet turn out well; and then I was almost sorry that I had written the letter.'
'Of course you were sorry, and so you ought to have been. To say that you would never call me Frank again!'
'I didn't exactly say that.'
'I have told him that I will wait a fortnight, and so I will. After that, I shall take the matter into my own hands.'
It may be supposed that Lady Arabella was not well pleased to learn that Frank and Mary had been again together; and, in the agony of her spirit, she did say some ill-natured things before Augusta, who had now returned home from Courcy Castle, as to the gross impropriety of Mary's conduct.
But to Frank she said nothing.
Nor was there much said between Frank and Beatrice. If everything could really be settled at the end of that fortnight which was to witness the disclosure of the doctor's mystery, there would still be time to arrange that Mary should be at the wedding. 'It shall be settled then,' he said to himself; 'and if it be settled, my mother will hardly venture to exclude my affianced bride from the house.' It was now the beginning of August, and it wanted yet a month to the Oriel wedding.
But though he said nothing to his mother or to Beatrice, he did say much to his father. In the first place, he showed him Mary's letter. 'If your heart be not made of stone it will be softened by that,' he said. Mr Gresham's heart was not of stone, and he did acknowledge that the letter was a very sweet letter. But we know how the drop of water hollows stone. It was not by the violence of his appeal that Frank succeeded in obtaining from his father a sort of half-consent that he would no longer oppose the match; but by the assiduity with which the appeal was repeated. Frank, as we have said, had more stubbornness of will than his father; and so, before the fortnight was over, the squire had been talked over, and promised to attend at the doctor's bidding.
'I suppose you had better take the Hazlehurst farm,' said he to his son, with a sigh. 'It joins the park and the home-fields, and I will give you them up also. God knows, I don't care about farming any more--or about anything else either.'
'Don't say that, father.'
'Well, well! But, Frank, where will you live? The old house is big enough for us all. But how would Mary get on with your mother?'
At the end of this fortnight, true to his time, the doctor returned to the village. He was a bad correspondent; and though he had written some short notes to Mary, he had said no word to her about his business. It was late in the evening when he got home, and it was understood by Frank and the squire that they were to be with him on the following morning.
Not a word had been said to Lady Arabella on the subject.
It was late in the evening when he got home, and Mary waited for him with a heart almost sick with expectation. As soon as the fly had stopped at the little gate she heard his voice, and heard at once that it was quick, joyful, and telling much of inward satisfaction. He had a good-natured word for Janet, and called Thomas an old blunder-head in a manner that made Bridget laugh outright.
'He'll have his nose put out of joint some day; won't he?' said the doctor. Bridget blushed and laughed again, and made a sign to Thomas that he had better look to his face.
Mary was in his arms before he was yet within the door. 'My darling,' said he, tenderly kissing her. 'You are my own darling yet awhile.'
'Of course I am. Am I not always to be so?'
'Well, well; let me have some tea, at any rate, for I'm in a fever of thirst. They may call that tea at the Junction if they will; but if China were sunk under the sea it would make no difference to them.'
Dr Thorne always was in a fever of thirst when he got home from the railway, and always made complaint as to tea at the Junction. Mary went about her usual work with almost more than her usual alacrity, and so they were soon seated in the drawing-room together.
She soon found that his manner was more than ordinarily kind to her; and there was moreover something about him which seemed to make him sparkle with contentment, but he said no word about Frank, nor did he make any allusion to the business which had taken him up to town.
'Have you got through all your work?' she said to him once.
