'But, independently of that, what would they live on?' said the squire, energetically. 'Birth is a great thing, a very great thing. You and I think exactly alike about that, so we need have no dispute. You are quite as proud of Ullathorne as I am of Greshamsbury.'
'I might be if it belonged to me.'
'But you are. It is no use arguing. But, putting that aside altogether, what would they live on? If they were to marry, what would they do? Where would they go? You know what Lady Arabella thinks of such things; would it be possible that they should live up at the house with her? Besides, what a life would that be for both of them! Could they live here? Would that be well for them?'
The squire looked at the doctor for an answer; but he still went on rubbing his calf. Mr. Gresham, therefore, was constrained to continue his expostulation.
'When I am dead there will still, I hope, be something;—something left for the poor fellow. Lady Arabella and the girls would be better off, perhaps, than now, and I sometimes wish, for Frank's sake, that the time had come.'
The doctor could not now go on rubbing his leg. He was moved to speak, and declared that, of all events, that was the one which would be furthest from Frank's heart. 'I know no son,' said he, 'who loves his father more dearly than he does.'
'I do believe it,' said the squire; 'I do believe it. But yet, I cannot but feel that I am in his way.'
'No, squire, no; you are in no one's way. You will find yourself happy with your son yet, and proud of him. And proud of his wife, too. I hope so, and I think so: I do, indeed, or I should not say so, squire; we will have many a happy day yet together, when we shall talk of all these things over the dining-room fire at Greshamsbury.'
The squire felt it kind in the doctor that he should thus endeavour to comfort him; but he could not understand, and did not inquire, on what basis these golden hopes were founded. It was necessary, however, to return to the subject which he had come to discuss. Would the doctor assist him in preventing this marriage? That was now the one thing necessary to be kept in view.
'But, doctor, about the young people; of course they cannot marry, you are aware of that.'
'I don't know that exactly.'
'Well, doctor, I must say I thought you would feel it.'
'Feel what, squire?'
'That, situated as they are, they ought not to marry.
