It has been suggested that the modern English writers of fiction should among them keep a barrister, in order that they may be set right on such legal points as will arise in their little narratives, and thus avoid the exposure of their own ignorance of the laws, which, now, alas! they too often make. The idea as worthy of consideration, and I can only say, that if such an arrangement can be made, and if a counsellor adequately skilful can be found to accept the office, I shall be happy to subscribe my quota; it would be but a modest tribute towards the cost.
But as the suggestion has not yet been carried out, and as there is at present no learned gentleman whose duty would induce him to set me right, I can only plead for mercy if I be wrong allotting all Sir Roger's vast possessions in perpetuity to Miss Thorne, alleging also, in excuse, that the course of my narrative absolutely demands that she shall be ultimately recognized as Sir Roger's undoubted heiress.
Such, after a not immoderate delay, was the opinion expressed to Dr Thorne by his law advisers; and such, in fact, turned out to be the case. I will leave the matter so, hoping that my very absence of defence may serve to protect me from severe attack. If under such a will as that described as having been made by Sir Roger, Mary would not have been the heiress, that will must have been described wrongly.
But it was not quite at once that those tidings made themselves absolutely certain to Dr Thorne's mind; nor was he able to express any such opinion when he first met Frank in London. At that time Mary's letter was in Frank's pocket; and Frank, though his real business appertained much more to the fact of Sir Louis's death, and the effect that would immediately have on his father's affairs, was much more full of what so much more nearly concerned himself. 'I will show it Dr Thorne himself,' said he, 'and ask him what he thinks.'
Dr Thorne was stretched fast asleep on the comfortless horse-hair sofa in the dingy sitting-room at the Gray's Inn Coffee-house when Frank found him. The funeral, and his journey to London, and the lawyers had together conquered his energies, and he lay and snored, with nose upright, while heavy London summer flies settled on his head and face, and robbed his slumbers of half their charms.
'I beg your pardon,' said he, jumping up as though he had been detected in some disgraceful act. 'Upon my word, Frank, I beg your pardon; but--well, my dear fellow, all well at Greshamsbury--eh?' and as he shook himself, he made a lunge at one uncommonly disagreeable fly that had been at him for the last ten minutes. It is hardly necessary to say that he missed his enemy.
'I should have been with you before, doctor, but I was down at Malvern.'
'At Malvern, eh? Ah! so Oriel told me. The death of poor Sir Louis was very sudden--was it not?'
'Very.'
'Poor fellow--poor fellow! His fate has for some time been past hope.
It is a madness, Frank; the worst of madness. Only think of it--father and son! And such a career as the father had--such a career as the son might have had!'
'It has been very quickly run,' said Frank.
'May it be all forgiven him! I sometimes cannot but believe in a special Providence. That poor fellow was not able, never would have been able, to make proper use of the means which fortune had given him. I hope they may fall into better hands. There is no use in denying it, his death will be an immense relief to me, and a relief also to your father.
All this law business will now, of course, be stopped. As for me, I hope I may never be trustee again.'
Frank had put his hand four or five times into his breast-pocket, and had as often taken out and put back again Mary's letter before he could find himself able to bring Dr Thorne to the subject. At last there was a lull in the purely legal discussion, caused by the doctor intimating that he supposed Frank would now soon return to Greshamsbury.
'Yes; I shall go to-morrow morning.'
'What! so soon as that? I counted on having you one day in London with me.'
