Doctor Thorne | Page 8

more coolness the folly of
encountering so prodigious an increase to the expense of his
establishment; had he not spent so much money in a pursuit which his
wife did not enjoy, she might perhaps have been more sparing in her
rebukes as to his indifference to her London pleasures. As it was, the
hounds came to Greshamsbury, and Lady Arabella did go to London
for some period in each year, and the family expenses were by no
means lessened.
The kennels, however, were now again empty. Two years previous to
the time at which our story begins, the hounds had been carried off to
the seat of some richer sportsman. This was more felt by Mr Gresham
than any other misfortune which he had yet incurred. He had been
master of hounds for ten years, and that work he had at any rate done
well. The popularity among his neighbours which he had lost as a
politician he had regained as a sportsman, and he would fain have
remained autocratic in the hunt, had it been possible. But he so
remained much longer than he should have done, and at last they went
away, not without signs and sounds of visible joy on the part of Lady
Arabella.
But we have kept the Greshamsbury tenancy waiting under the
oak-trees by far too long. Yes; when young Frank came of age there
was still enough left at Greshamsbury, still means enough at the
squire's disposal, to light one bonfire, to roast, whole in its skin, one
bullock. Frank's virility came on him not quite unmarked, as that of the

parson's sons might do, or the son of a neighbouring attorney. It could
still be reported in the Barsetshire Conservative "Standard" that 'The
beards waggled all,' at Greshamsbury, now as they had done for many
centuries on similar festivals. Yes; it was so reported. But this, like so
many other such reports, had but a shadow of truth in it. 'They poured
the liquor in,' certainly, those who were there; but the beards did not
wag as they had been wont to wag in former years. Beards won't wag
for the telling. The squire was at his wits' end for money, and the
tenants one and all had so heard. Rents had been raised on them; timber
had fallen fast; the lawyer on the estate was growing rich; tradesmen in
Barchester, nay, in Greshamsbury itself, were beginning to mutter; and
the squire himself would not be merry. Under such circumstances the
throats of the tenantry will still swallow, but their beards will not wag.
'I minds well,' said Farmer Oaklerath to his neighbour, 'when the squire
hisself comed of age. Lord love 'ee! There was fun going that day.
There was more yale drank then than's been brewed at the big house
these two years. T'old squoire was a one'er.'
'And I minds when the squoire was borned; minds it well,' said an old
farmer sitting opposite. 'Them was the days! It an't that long age neither.
Squoire a'nt come o' fifty yet; no, nor an't nigh it, though he looks it.
Things be altered at Greemsbury'--such was the rural
pronunciation--'altered sadly, neebor Oaklerath. Well, well; I'll soon be
gone, I will, and so it an't no use talking; but arter paying one pound
fifteen for them acres for more nor fifty year, I didn't think I'd ever be
axed for forty shilling.'
Such was the style of conversation which went on at the various tables.
It had certainly been of a very different tone when the squire was born,
when he came of age, and when, just two years subsequently, his son
had been born. On each of these events similar rural fetes had been
given, and the squire himself had on these occasions been frequent
among his guests. On the first, he had been carried round by his father,
a whole train of ladies and nurses following. On the second, he had
himself mixed in all the sports, the gayest of the gay, and each tenant
had squeezed his way up to the lawn to get a sight of the Lady Arabella,

who, as was already known, was to come from Courcy Castle to
Greshamsbury to be their mistress. It was little they any of them cared
now for the Lady Arabella. On the third, he himself had borne him; his
child in his arms as his father had before borne him; he was in the
zenith of his pride, and though the tenantry had whispered that he was
somewhat less familiar with them than of yore, that he had put on
somewhat too much of the De Courcy airs, still he was their squire,
their master, the rich man in whose hand they lay. The old squire was
then gone,