Were he to linger on yet for two years longer—and such a space of life was possible for him—how great would be the mischief that he might do; nay, certainly would do! Farewell then to all hopes for Greshamsbury, as far as Mary was concerned. Farewell then to that dear scheme which lay deep in the doctor's heart, that hope that he might, in his niece's name, give back to the son the lost property of the father. And might not one year—six months be as fatal. Frank, they all said, must marry money; and even he—he the doctor himself, much as he despised the idea for money's sake—even he could not but confess that Frank, as the heir to an old, but grievously embarrassed property, had no right to marry, at his early age, a girl without a shilling. Mary, his niece, his own child, would probably be the heiress of this immense wealth; but he could not tell this to Frank; no, nor to Frank's father while Sir Louis was yet alive. What, if by so doing he should achieve this marriage for his niece, and that then Sir Louis should live to dispose of his own? How then would he face the anger of Lady Arabella?
"I will never hanker after a dead man's shoes, neither for myself nor for another," he had said to himself a hundred times; and as often did he accuse himself of doing so. One path, however, was plainly open before him. He would keep his peace as to the will; and would use such efforts as he might use for a son of his own loins to preserve the life that was so valueless. His wishes, his hopes, his thoughts, he could not control; but his conduct was at his own disposal.
"I say, doctor, you don't really think that I'm going to die?" Sir Louis said, when Dr Thorne again visited him.
"I don't think at all; I am sure you will kill yourself if you continue to live as you have lately done."
"But suppose I go all right for a while, and live—live just as you tell me, you know?"
"All of us are in God's hands, Sir Louis. By so doing you will, at any rate, give yourself the best chance."
"Best chance? Why, d––––n, doctor! there are fellows have done ten times worse than I; and they are not going to kick. Come, now, I know you are trying to frighten me; ain't you, now?"
"I am trying to do the best I can for you."
"It's very hard on a fellow like me; I have nobody to say a kind word to me; no, not one." And Sir Louis, in his wretchedness, began to weep. "Come, doctor; if you'll put me once more on my legs, I'll let you draw on the estate for five hundred pounds; by G––––, I will."
The doctor went away to his dinner, and the baronet also had his in bed. He could not eat much, but he was allowed two glasses of wine, and also a little brandy in his coffee. This somewhat invigorated him, and when Dr Thorne again went to him, in the evening, he did not find him so utterly prostrated in spirit. He had, indeed, made up his mind to a great resolve; and thus unfolded his final scheme for his own reformation:—