CHAPTER VIII.
DRIFTING INTO DANGER.
On Thursday, the quiet country household was stirred through allits fibres with the thought of Roger's coming home. Mrs. Hamley hadnot seemed quite so well, or quite in such good spirits for two orthree days before; and the squire himself had appeared to be put outwithout any visible cause. They had not chosen to tell Molly thatOsborne's name had only appeared very low down in the mathematicaltripos. So all that their visitor knew was that something was out oftune, and she hoped that Roger's coming home would set it to rights,for it was beyond the power of her small cares and wiles.
On Thursday, the housemaid apologized to her for some slightnegligence in her bedroom, by saying she had been busy scouringMr. Roger's rooms. "Not but what they were as clean as could bebeforehand; but mistress would always have the young gentlemen'srooms cleaned afresh before they came home. If it had been Mr.Osborne, the whole house would have had to be done; but, to be sure,he was the eldest son, so it was but likely." Molly was amused atthis testimony to the rights of heirship; but somehow she herself hadfallen into the family manner of thinking that nothing was too greator too good for "the eldest son." In his father's eyes, Osborne wasthe representative of the ancient house of Hamley of Hamley, thefuture owner of the land which had been theirs for a thousand years.His mother clung to him because they two were cast in the samemould, both physically and mentally--because he bore her maiden name.She had indoctrinated Molly with her faith, and, in spite of heramusement at the housemaid's speech, the girl visitor would havebeen as anxious as any one to show her feudal loyalty to the heir,if indeed it had been he that was coming. After luncheon, Mrs. Hamleywent to rest, in preparation for Roger's return; and Molly alsoretired to her own room, feeling that it would be better for her toremain there until dinner-time, and so to leave the father and motherto receive their boy in privacy. She took a book of MS. poems withher; they were all of Osborne Hamley's composition and his motherhad read some of them aloud to her young visitor more than once.Molly had asked permission to copy one or two of those which wereher greatest favourites; and this quiet summer afternoon she tookthis copying for her employment, sitting at the pleasant open window,and losing herself in dreamy out-looks into the gardens and woods,quivering in the noon-tide heat. The house was so still, in itssilence it might have been the "moated grange;" the booming buzz ofthe blue flies, in the great staircase window, seemed the loudestnoise in-doors. And there was scarcely a sound out-of-doors but thehumming of bees, in the flower-beds below the window. Distant voicesfrom the far-away fields where they were making hay--the scent ofwhich came in sudden wafts distinct from that of the nearer rosesand honeysuckles--these merry piping voices just made Molly feel thedepth of the present silence. She had left off copying, her handweary with the unusual exertion of so much writing, and she waslazily trying to learn one or two of the poems off by heart.
I asked of the wind, but answer made it none, Save its accustomed sad and solitary moan--
she kept saying to herself, losing her sense of whatever meaning thewords had ever had, in the repetition which had become mechanical.Suddenly there was the snap of a shutting gate; wheels crackling onthe dry gravel, horses' feet on the drive; a loud cheerful voicein the house, coming up through the open windows, the hall, thepassages, the staircase, with unwonted fulness and roundness of tone.The entrance-hall downstairs was paved with diamonds of black andwhite marble; the low wide staircase that went in short flightsaround the hall, till you could look down upon the marble floor fromthe top story of the house, was uncarpeted--uncovered. The Squirewas too proud of his beautifully-joined oaken flooring to cover thisstair-case up unnecessarily; not to say a word of the usual state ofwant of ready money to expend upon the decorations of his house. So,through the undraperied hollow square of the hall and staircase everysound ascended clear and distinct; and Molly heard the Squire's glad"Hallo! here he is," and madam's softer, more plaintive voice; andthen the loud, full, strange tone, which she knew must be Roger's.Then there was an opening and shutting of doors, and only a distantbuzz of talking. Molly began again--
I asked of the wind, but answer made it none.
And this time she had nearly finished learning the poem, when sheheard Mrs. Hamley come hastily into her sitting-room that adjoinedMolly's bedroom, and burst out into an irrepressible half-hystericalfit of sobbing. Molly was too young to have any complication ofmotives which should prevent her going at once to try and give whatcomfort she could. In an instant she was kneeling at Mrs. Hamley'sfeet, holding the poor lady's hands, kissing them, murmuring softwords; which, all unmeaning as they were of aught but sympathy withthe untold grief, did Mrs. Hamley good. She checked herself, smilingsadly at Molly through the midst of her thick-coming sobs.
"It's only Osborne," said she, at last. "Roger has been telling usabout him."
"What about him?" asked Molly, eagerly.
"I knew on Monday; we had a letter--he said he had not done so wellas we had hoped--as he had hoped himself, poor fellow! He said he hadjust passed, but was only low down among the _junior optimes_, andnot where he had expected, and had led us to expect. But the Squirehas never been at college, and does not understand college terms, andhe has been asking Roger all about it, and Roger has been tellinghim, and it has made him so angry. But the squire hates collegeslang;--he has never been there, you know; and he thought poorOsborne was taking it too lightly, and he has been asking Roger aboutit, and Roger--"
There was a fresh fit of the sobbing crying. Molly burst out,--"Idon't think Mr. Roger should have told; he had no need to begin sosoon about his brother's failure. Why, he hasn't been in the house anhour!"
"Hush, hush, love!" said Mrs. Hamley. "Roger is so good. You don'tunderstand. The squire would begin and ask questions before Roger hadtasted food--as soon as ever we had got into the dining-room. And allhe said--to me, at any rate--was that Osborne was nervous, and thatif he could only have gone in for the Chancellor's medals, he wouldhave carried all before him. But Roger said that after failing likethis, he is not very likely to get a fellowship, which the Squire hadplaced his hopes on. Osborne himself seemed so sure of it, that thesquire can't understand it, and is seriously angry, and growing moreso the more he talks about it. He has kept it in two or three days,and that never suits him. He is always better when he is angry abouta thing at once, and doesn't let it smoulder in his mind. Poor, poorOsborne! I did wish he had been coming straight home, instead ofgoing to these friends of his; I thought I could have comforted him.But now I'm glad, for it will be better to let his father's angercool first."
So talking out what was in her heart, Mrs. Hamley became morecomposed; and at length she dismissed Molly to dress for dinner, witha kiss, saying,--
"You're a real blessing to mothers, child! You give one such pleasantsympathy, both in one's gladness and in one's sorrow; in one'spride (for I was so proud last week, so confident), and in one'sdisappointment. And now your being a fourth at dinner will keepus off that sore subject; there are times when a stranger in thehousehold is a wonderful help."
Molly thought over all that she had heard, as she was dressingand putting on the terrible, over-smart plaid gown in honour ofthe new arrival. Her unconscious fealty to Osborne was not in theleast shaken by his having come to grief at Cambridge. Only she wasindignant--with or without reason--against Roger, who seemed to havebrought the reality of bad news as an offering of first-fruits on hisreturn home.
She went down into the drawing-room with anything but a welcome tohim in her heart. He was standing by his mother; the Squire had notyet made his appearance. Molly thought that the two were hand in handwhen she first opened the door, but she could not be quite sure. Mrs.Hamley came a little forwards to meet her, and introduced her in sofondly intimate a way to her son, that Molly, innocent and simple,knowing nothing but Hollingford manners, which were anything butformal, half put out her hand to shake hands with one of whom she hadheard so much--the son of such kind friends. She could only
hope hehad not seen the movement, for he made no attempt to respond to it;only bowed.
He was a tall powerfully-made young man, giving the impressionof strength more than elegance. His face was rather square,ruddy-coloured (as his father had said), hair and eyes brown--thelatter rather deep-set beneath his thick eyebrows; and he had a trickof wrinkling up his eyelids when he wanted particularly to observeanything, which made his eyes look even smaller still at such times.He had a large mouth, with excessively mobile lips; and another trickof his was, that when he was amused at anything, he resisted theimpulse to laugh, by a droll manner of twitching and puckering uphis mouth, till at length the sense of humour had its way, andhis features relaxed, and he broke into a broad sunny smile; hisbeautiful teeth--his only beautiful feature--breaking out with awhite gleam upon the red-brown countenance. These two tricks ofhis--of crumpling up the eyelids, so as to concentrate the powerof sight, which made him look stern and thoughtful; and the oddtwitching of the lips that was preliminary to a smile, which madehim look intensely merry--gave the varying expressions of his facea greater range "from grave to gay, from lively to severe," than iscommon with most men. To Molly, who was not finely discriminativein her glances at the stranger this first night, he simply appeared"heavy-looking, clumsy," and "a person she was sure she should neverget on with." He certainly did not seem to care much what impressionhe made upon his mother's visitor. He was at that age when young menadmire a formed beauty more than a face with any amount of futurecapability of loveliness, and when they are morbidly conscious of thedifficulty of finding subjects of conversation in talking to girlsin a state of feminine hobbledehoyhood. Besides, his thoughts werefull of other subjects, which he did not intend to allow to ooze outin words, yet he wanted to prevent any of that heavy silence whichhe feared might be impending--with an angry and displeased father,and a timorous and distressed mother. He only looked upon Molly asa badly-dressed, and rather awkward girl, with black hair and anintelligent face, who might help him in the task he had set himselfof keeping up a bright general conversation during the rest of theevening; might help him--if she would, but she would not. She thoughthim unfeeling in his talkativeness; his constant flow of words uponindifferent subjects was a wonder and a repulsion to her. How couldhe go on so cheerfully while his mother sat there, scarcely eatinganything, and doing her best, with ill-success, to swallow down thetears that would keep rising to her eyes; when his father's heavybrow was deeply clouded, and he evidently cared nothing--at first atleast--for all the chatter his son poured forth? Had Mr. Roger Hamleyno sympathy in him? She would show that she had some, at any rate. Soshe quite declined the part, which he had hoped she would have taken,of respondent, and possible questioner; and his work became moreand more like that of a man walking in a quagmire. Once the Squireroused himself to speak to the butler; he felt the need of outwardstimulus--of a better vintage than usual.
"Bring up a bottle of the Burgundy with the yellow seal."
He spoke low; he had no spirit to speak in his usual voice. Thebutler answered in the same tone. Molly sitting near them, and silentherself, heard what they said.
"If you please, sir, there are not above six bottles of that sealleft; and it is Mr. Osborne's favourite wine."
The Squire turned round with a growl in his voice.
"Bring up a bottle of the Burgundy with the yellow seal, as I said."
The butler went away wondering. "Mr. Osborne's" likes and dislikeshad been the law of the house in general until now. If he had likedany particular food or drink, any seat or place, any special degreeof warmth or coolness, his wishes were to be attended to; for hewas the heir, and he was delicate, and he was the clever one ofthe family. All the out-of-doors men would have said the same.Mr. Osborne wished a tree cut down, or kept standing, or hadsuch-and-such a fancy about the game, or desired something unusualabout the horses; and they had all to attend to it as if it werelaw. But to-day the Burgundy with the yellow seal was to be brought;and it was brought. Molly testified with quiet vehemence of actionshe never took wine, so she need not have been afraid of the man'spouring it into her glass; but as an open mark of fealty to theabsent Osborne, however little it might be understood, she placed thepalm of her small brown hand over the top of the glass, and held itthere, till the wine had gone round, and Roger and his father were infull enjoyment of it.
After dinner, too, the gentlemen lingered long over their dessert,and Molly heard them laughing; and then she saw them loiteringabout in the twilight out-of-doors; Roger hatless, his hands in hispockets, lounging by his father's side, who was now able to talk inhis usual loud and cheerful way, forgetting Osborne. _Vae victis!_
VAE VICTIS!]
And so in mute opposition on Molly's side, in polite indifference,scarcely verging upon kindliness on his, Roger and she steeredclear of each other. He had many occupations in which he needed nocompanionship, even if she had been qualified to give it. The worstwas, that she found he was in the habit of occupying the library,her favourite retreat, in the mornings before Mrs. Hamley came down.She opened the half-closed door a day or two after his return home,and found him busy among books and papers, with which the largeleather-covered table was strewn; and she softly withdrew before hecould turn his head and see her, so as to distinguish her from oneof the housemaids. He rode out every day, sometimes with his fatherabout the outlying fields, sometimes far away for a good gallop.Molly would have enjoyed accompanying him on these occasions, forshe was very fond of riding; and there had been some talk of sendingfor her habit and grey pony when first she came to Hamley; only theSquire, after some consideration, had said he so rarely did morethan go slowly from one field to another, where his labourers wereat work, that he feared she would find such slow work--ten minutesriding through heavy land, twenty minutes sitting still on horseback,listening to the directions he should have to give to his men--ratherdull. Now, when if she had had her pony here she might have riddenout with Roger, without giving him any trouble--she would have takencare of that--nobody seemed to think of renewing the proposal.
Altogether it was pleasanter before he came home.
Her father rode over pretty frequently; sometimes there were longunaccountable absences, it was true; when his daughter began tofidget after him, and to wonder what had become of him. But whenhe made his appearance he had always good reasons to give; and theright she felt that she had to his familiar household tenderness;the power she possessed of fully understanding the exact value ofboth his words and his silence, made these glimpses of intercoursewith him inexpressibly charming. Latterly her burden had always been,"When may I come home, papa?" It was not that she was unhappy, oruncomfortable; she was passionately fond of Mrs. Hamley, she was afavourite of the Squire's, and could not as yet fully understandwhy some people were so much afraid of him; and as for Roger, if hedid not add to her pleasure, he scarcely took away from it. But shewanted to be at home once more. The reason why she could not tell;but this she knew full well. Mr. Gibson reasoned with her tillshe was weary of being completely convinced that it was right andnecessary for her to stay where she was. And then with an effort shestopped the cry upon her tongue, for she saw that its repetitionharassed her father.
During this absence of hers Mr. Gibson was drifting into matrimony.He was partly aware of whither he was going; and partly it waslike the soft floating movement of a dream. He was more passivethan active in the affair; though, if his reason had not fullyapproved of the step he was tending to--if he had not believed thata second marriage was the very best way of cutting the Gordian knotof domestic difficulties, he could have made an effort without anygreat trouble, and extricated himself without pain from the meshof circumstances. It happened in this manner:--Lady Cumnor havingmarried her two eldest daughters, found her labours as a chaperone toLady Harriet, the youngest, considerably lightened by co-operationand, at length, she had leisure to be an invalid. She was, however,too energetic to allow herself this indulgence constantly; only shepermitted herself to break down occasio
nally after a long course ofdinners, late hours, and London atmosphere: and then, leaving LadyHarriet with either Lady Cuxhaven or Lady Agnes Manners, she betookherself to the comparative quiet of the Towers, where she foundoccupation in doing her benevolence, which was sadly neglected inthe hurly-burly of London. This particular summer she had brokendown earlier than usual, and longed for the repose of the country.She believed that her state of health, too, was more serious thanpreviously; but she did not say a word of this to her husband ordaughters; reserving her confidence for Mr. Gibson's ears. Shedid not wish to take Lady Harriet away from the gaieties of townwhich she was thoroughly enjoying, by any complaint of hers, whichmight, after all, be ill-founded; and yet she did not quite likebeing without a companion in the three weeks or a month that mightintervene before her family would join her at the Towers, especiallyas the annual festivity to the school visitors was impending; andboth the school and the visit of the ladies connected with it, hadrather lost the zest of novelty.
"Thursday the 19th, Harriet," said Lady Cumnor, meditatively; "whatdo you say to coming down to the Towers on the 18th, and helping meover that long day. You could stay in the country till Monday, andhave a few days' rest and good air; you would return a great dealfresher to the remainder of your gaieties. Your father would bringyou down, I know: indeed, he is coming naturally."
"Oh, mamma!" said Lady Harriet, the youngest daughter of thehouse--the prettiest, the most indulged; "I cannot go; there's thewater-party up to Maidenhead on the 20th, I should be so sorry tomiss it: and Mrs. Duncan's ball, and Grisi's concert; please, don'twant me. Besides, I should do no good. I can't make provincialsmall-talk; I'm not up in the local politics of Hollingford. I shouldbe making mischief, I know I should."
"Very well, my dear," said Lady Cumnor, sighing, "I had forgotten theMaidenhead water-party, or I would not have asked you."
"What a pity it isn't the Eton holidays, so that you could have hadHollingford's boys to help you to do the honours, mamma. They aresuch affable little prigs. It was the greatest fun to watch them lastyear at Sir Edward's, doing the honours of their grandfather's houseto much such a collection of humble admirers as you get together atthe Towers. I shall never forget seeing Edgar gravely squiring aboutan old lady in a portentous black bonnet, and giving her informationin the correctest grammar possible."
"Well, I like those lads," said Lady Cuxhaven; "they are on the wayto become true gentlemen. But, mamma, why shouldn't you have Clare tostay with you? You like her, and she is just the person to save youthe troubles of hospitality to the Hollingford people, and we shouldall be so much more comfortable if we knew you had her with you."
"Yes, Clare would do very well," said Lady Cumnor; "but isn't it herschool-time or something? We must not interfere with her school soas to injure her, for I am afraid she is not doing too well as it is;and she has been so very unlucky ever since she left us--first herhusband died, and then she lost Lady Davies' situation, and then Mrs.Maude's, and now Mr. Preston told your father it was all she coulddo to pay her way in Ashcombe, though Lord Cumnor lets her have thehouse rent-free."
"I can't think how it is," said Lady Harriet. "She's not very wise,certainly; but she is so useful and agreeable, and has such pleasantmanners, I should have thought any one who wasn't particular abouteducation would have been charmed to keep her as a governess."
"What do you mean by not being particular about education? Mostpeople who keep governesses for their children are supposed to beparticular," said Lady Cuxhaven.
"Well, they think themselves so, I've no doubt; but I call youparticular, Mary, and I don't think mamma was; but she thoughtherself so, I'm sure."
"I can't think what you mean, Harriet," said Lady Cumnor, a good dealannoyed at this speech of her clever, heedless, youngest daughter.
"Oh dear, mamma, you did everything you could think of for us; butyou see you'd ever so many other engrossing interests, and Maryhardly ever allows her love for her husband to interfere with herall-absorbing care for the children. You gave us the best of mastersin every department, and Clare to dragonize and keep us up toour preparation for them, as well as ever she could; but then youknow, or rather you didn't know, some of the masters admired ourvery pretty governess, and there was a kind of respectable veiledflirtation going on, which never came to anything, to be sure; andthen you were often so overwhelmed with your business as a greatlady--fashionable and benevolent, and all that sort of thing--thatyou used to call Clare away from us at the most critical times ofour lessons, to write your notes, or add up your accounts, and theconsequence is, that I'm about the most ill-informed girl in London.Only Mary was so capitally trained by good awkward Miss Benson, thatshe is always full to overflowing with accurate knowledge, and herglory is reflected upon me."
"Do you think what Harriet says is true, Mary?" asked Lady Cumnor,rather anxiously.
"I was so little with Clare in the school-room. I used to read Frenchwith her; she had a beautiful accent, I remember. Both Agnes andHarriet were very fond of her. I used to be jealous for Miss Benson'ssake, and perhaps--" Lady Cuxhaven paused a minute--"that made mefancy that she had a way of flattering and indulging them--not quiteconscientious, I used to think. But girls are severe judges, andcertainly she had had an anxious enough lifetime. I am always so gladwhen we can have her, and give her a little pleasure. The only thingthat makes me uneasy now is the way in which she seems to send herdaughter away from her so much; we never can persuade her to bringCynthia with her when she comes to see us."
"Now that I call ill-natured," said Lady Harriet; "here is a poordear woman trying to earn her livelihood, first as a governess, andwhat could she do with her daughter then, but send her to school? andafter that, when Clare is asked to go visiting, and is too modestto bring her girl with her--besides all the expense of the journey,and the rigging out--Mary finds fault with her for her modesty andeconomy."
"Well, after all, we are not discussing Clare and her affairs, buttrying to plan for mamma's comfort. I don't see that she can dobetter than ask Mrs. Kirkpatrick to come to the Towers--as soon asher holidays begin, I mean."
"Here is her last letter," said Lady Cumnor, who had been searchingfor it in her escritoire, while her daughters were talking. Holdingher glasses before her eyes, she began to read, "'My wontedmisfortunes appear to have followed me to Ashcombe'--um, um, um;that's not it--'Mr. Preston is most kind in sending me fruit andflowers from the Manor-house, according to dear Lord Cumnor's kindinjunction.' Oh, here it is! 'The vacation begins on the 11th,according to the usual custom of schools in Ashcombe; and I mustthen try and obtain some change of air and scene, in order to fitmyself for the resumption of my duties on the 10th of August.' Yousee, girls, she would be at liberty, if she has not made any otherarrangement for spending her holidays. To-day is the 15th."
"I'll write to her at once, mamma," Lady Harriet said. "Clare and Iare always great friends; I was her confidant in her loves with poorMr. Kirkpatrick, and we've kept up our intimacy ever since. I know ofthree offers she had besides."
"I sincerely hope Miss Bowes is not telling her love-affairs to Graceor Lily. Why, Harriet, you could not have been older than Grace whenClare was married!" said Lady Cuxhaven, in maternal alarm.
"No; but I was well versed in the tender passion, thanks to novels.Now I daresay you don't admit novels into your school-room, Mary; soyour daughters wouldn't be able to administer discreet sympathy totheir governess in case she was the heroine of a love-affair."
"My dear Harriet, don't let me hear you talking of love in that way;it is not pretty. Love is a serious thing."
"My dear mamma, your exhortations are just eighteen years too late.I've talked all the freshness off love, and that's the reason I'mtired of the subject."
This last speech referred to a recent refusal of Lady Harriet's,which had displeased Lady Cumnor, and rather annoyed my lord; asthey, the parents, could see no objection to the gentleman inquestion. Lady Cuxhaven did not want to have the subject brought up,so she has
tened to say,--
"Do ask the poor little daughter to come with her mother to theTowers; why, she must be seventeen or more; she would really be acompanion to you, mamma, if her mother was unable to come."
"I was not ten when Clare married, and I'm nearly nine-and-twenty,"added Lady Harriet.
"Don't speak of it, Harriet; at any rate you are but eight-and-twentynow, and you look a great deal younger. There is no need to be alwaysbringing up your age on every possible occasion."
"There was need of it now, though. I wanted to make out how oldCynthia Kirkpatrick was. I think she can't be far from eighteen."
"She is at school at Boulogne, I know; and so I don't think she canbe as old as that. Clare says something about her in this letter:'Under these circumstances' (the ill-success of her school), 'Icannot think myself justified in allowing myself the pleasure ofhaving darling Cynthia at home for the holidays; especially as theperiod when the vacation in French schools commences differs fromthat common in England; and it might occasion some confusion in myarrangements if darling Cynthia were to come to Ashcombe, and occupymy time and thoughts so immediately before the commencement of myscholastic duties as the 8th of August, on which day her vacationbegins, which is but two days before my holidays end.' So, you see,Clare would be quite at liberty to come to me, and I daresay it wouldbe a very nice change for her."
"And Hollingford is busy seeing after his new laboratory at theTowers, and is constantly backwards and forwards. And Agnes wants togo there for change of air, as soon as she is strong enough afterher confinement. And even my own dear insatiable 'me' will have hadenough of gaiety in two or three weeks, if this hot weather lasts."
"I think I may be able to come down for a few days too, if you willlet me, mamma; and I'll bring Grace, who is looking rather pale andweedy; growing too fast, I'm afraid. So I hope you won't be dull."
"My dear," said Lady Cumnor, drawing herself up, "I should be ashamedof feeling dull with my resources; my duties to others and tomyself!"
So the plan in its present shape was told to Lord Cumnor, who highlyapproved of it; as he always did of every project of his wife's. LadyCumnor's character was perhaps a little too ponderous for him inreality, but he was always full of admiration for all her words anddeeds, and used to boast of her wisdom, her benevolence, her powerand dignity, in her absence, as if by this means he could buttress uphis own more feeble nature.
"Very good--very good, indeed! Clare to join you at the Towers!Capital! I couldn't have planned it better myself! I shall go downwith you on Wednesday in time for the jollification on Thursday. Ialways enjoy that day; they are such nice, friendly people, thosegood Hollingford ladies. Then I'll have a day with Sheepshanks, andperhaps I may ride over to Ashcombe and see Preston--Brown Jess cando it in a day, eighteen miles--to be sure! But there's back again tothe Towers!--how much is twice eighteen--thirty?"
"Thirty-six," said Lady Cumnor, sharply.
"So it is; you're always right, my dear. Preston's a clever, sharpfellow."
"I don't like him," said my lady.
"He takes looking after; but he's a sharp fellow. He's such agood-looking man, too, I wonder you don't like him."
"I never think whether a land-agent is handsome or not. They don'tbelong to the class of people whose appearance I notice."
"To be sure not. But he is a handsome fellow; and what should makeyou like him is the interest he takes in Clare and her prospects. Heis constantly suggesting something that can be done to her house, andI know he sends her fruit, and flowers, and game just as regularly aswe should ourselves if we lived at Ashcombe."
"How old is he?" said Lady Cumnor, with a faint suspicion of motivesin her mind.
"About twenty-seven, I think. Ah! I see what is in your ladyship'shead. No! no! he's too young for that. You must look out for somemiddle-aged man, if you want to get poor Clare married; Preston won'tdo."
"I'm not a match-maker, as you might know. I never did it for my owndaughters. I'm not likely to do it for Clare," said she, leaning backlanguidly.
"Well! you might do a worse thing. I'm beginning to think she'llnever get on as a schoolmistress, though why she shouldn't, I'm sureI don't know; for she's an uncommonly pretty woman for her age, andher having lived in our family, and your having had her so often withyou, ought to go a good way. I say, my lady, what do you think ofGibson? He would be just the right age--widower--lives near theTowers?"
"I told you just now I was no match-maker, my lord. I suppose we hadbetter go by the old road--the people at those inns know us?"
And so they passed on to speaking about other things than Mrs.Kirkpatrick and her prospects, scholastic or matrimonial.
Wives and Daughters Page 10
