Anthony Trollope: Barchester Towers

45. CHAPTER XLV: THE STANHOPES AT HOME (continued)

'I'll do anything you suggest, sir,' said Bertie.

'No, I shall suggest nothing further. My time for suggesting has gone by. I have only one order to give, and that is, that you leave my house.'

'To-night?' said Bertie; and the simple tone of the question left the doctor without any adequately dignified method of reply.

'Papa does not quite mean to-night,' said Charlotte, 'at least I suppose not.'

'To-morrow perhaps,' suggested Bertie.

'Yes sir, to-morrow,' said the doctor. 'You shall leave this to-morrow.'

'Very well, sir. Will the 4.30 P.M. train be soon enough?' said Bertie, as he asked, put the finishing touch to Miss Thorne's high-heeled boots.

'You may go how and when and where you please, so that you leave my house to-morrow. You have disgraced me, sir; you have disgraced yourself, and me, and your sisters.'

'I am glad at least sir, that I have not disgraced my mother,' said Bertie.

Charlotte could hardly keep her countenance; but the doctor's brow grew still blacker than ever. Bertie was executing his chef d'ouvre in the delineation of Mrs Proudie's nose and mouth.

'You are a heartless reprobate, sir; a heartless, thankless, good-for-nothing reprobate. I have done with you. You are my son--that I cannot help; but you shall have no more part or parcel in me as my child, nor I in you as your father.'

'Oh, papa, papa! You must not, shall not say so,' said Charlotte.

'I will say so, and do say so,' said the father, rising from his chair. 'And now leave the room, sir.'