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Updated: June 28, 2025
Dr Fillgrave could not refrain from one moment of supercilious disdain: he gave one little chuck to his head, one little twist to his neck, one little squeeze to his lips, and then the man within him overcame the doctor. "Sir Louis is no more," he said. "God's will be done!" said Dr Thorne. "His death is a release; for his last days have been very frightful.
If a man be ill, really ill, he should have the best advice he can get. I'll have Fillgrave, and I'll have that other fellow from Silverbridge to meet him. What's his name? Century." The doctor turned his head away; for though the occasion was serious, he could not help smiling at the malicious vengeance with which his friend proposed to gratify himself. "I will; and Rerechild too.
It is hardly too much to say that Dr Fillgrave never knew another happy hour. Had he dreamed of what materials was made that young compounder of doses at Greshamsbury he would have met him in consultation, morning, noon, and night, without objection; but having begun the war, he was constrained to go on with it: his brethren would allow him no alternative.
It appeared, even to her, that Dr Fillgrave himself hardly knew what he was about, that he was not so sure in his opinion, so confident in himself, as Dr Thorne used to be. How should he be, seeing that Dr Thorne had medically had Lady Arabella in his hands for the last ten years?
The medical world shall know all; you may be sure, sir, the medical world shall know it all;" and thus, ordering his post-chaise, and threatening Dr Thorne with the medical world, Dr Fillgrave made his way to the door. But the moment he put on his hat he returned. "No, madam," said he. "No; it is quite out of the question: such an affair is not to be arranged by such means.
Sir Roger turned himself roughly in the bed so as to get away from his Mentor, and then he began to threaten in his turn. "I'll tell you what it is, doctor; I've made up my mind, and I'll do it. I'll send for Fillgrave." "Very well," said he of Greshamsbury, "send for Fillgrave. Your case is one in which even he can hardly go wrong."
What would a laryer be if he did not know how to cheat a witness and humbug a jury? knows he is lying, why is he lying? for love of his fees, or his fame like, which gets fees; Augh! is not that cheating others? The doctor, too, Master Fillgrave, for instance? " "Say no more of doctors; I abandon them to your satire, without a word." "The lying knaves!
For Joe still had a crooked nose, all the doctor's care having been inefficacious to remedy the evil effects of Bridget's little tap with the rolling-pin. Joe had no written credentials, for his master was hardly equal to writing, and Lady Scatcherd had declined to put herself into further personal communication with Dr Fillgrave; but he had effrontery enough to deliver any message.
It was hardly yet nine when the post-boy somewhat loudly rang the bell at Sir Roger's door; and then Dr Fillgrave, for the first time, found himself in the new grand hall of Boxall Hill house. "I'll tell my lady," said the servant, showing him into the grand dining-room; and there for some fifteen minutes or twenty minutes Dr Fillgrave walked up and down the length of the Turkey carpet all alone.
"Be you Dr Fillgrave?" said Joe, with one finger just raised to his cocked hat. "Yes," said Dr Fillgrave, with one foot on the step of the carriage, but pausing at the sight of so well-turned-out a servant. "Yes; I am Dr Fillgrave." "Then you be to go to Boxall Hill immediately; before anywhere else." "Boxall Hill!" said the doctor, with a very angry frown.
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