CHAPTER XX.
MRS. GIBSON'S VISITORS.
One day, to Molly's infinite surprise, Mr. Preston was announcedas a caller. Mrs. Gibson and she were sitting together in thedrawing-room; Cynthia was out--gone into the town a-shopping--whenthe door was opened, the name given, and in walked the young man. Hisentrance seemed to cause more confusion than Molly could well accountfor. He came in with the same air of easy assurance with which hehad received her and her father at Ashcombe Manor-house. He lookedremarkably handsome in his riding-dress, and with the open-airexercise he had just had. But Mrs. Gibson's smooth brows contracted alittle at the sight of him, and her reception of him was much coolerthan that which she usually gave to visitors. Yet there was a degreeof agitation in it, which surprised Molly a little. Mrs. Gibson wasat her everlasting worsted-work frame when Mr. Preston entered theroom; but somehow in rising to receive him, she threw down her basketof crewels, and, declining Molly's offer to help her, she would pickup all the reels herself, before she asked her visitor to sit down.He stood there, hat in hand, affecting an interest in the recovery ofthe worsted which Molly was sure he did not feel; for all the timehis eyes were glancing round the room, and taking note of the detailsin the arrangement.
At length they were seated, and conversation began.
"It is the first time I have been in Hollingford since your marriage,Mrs. Gibson, or I should certainly have called to pay my respectssooner."
"I know you are very busy at Ashcombe. I did not expect you to call.Is Lord Cumnor at the Towers? I have not heard from her ladyship formore than a week!"
"No! he seemed still detained at Bath. But I had a letter from himgiving me certain messages for Mr. Sheepshanks. Mr. Gibson is not athome, I'm afraid?"
"No. He is a great deal out--almost constantly, I may say. I had noidea that I should see so little of him. A doctor's wife leads a verysolitary life, Mr. Preston!"
"You can hardly call it solitary, I should think, when you have sucha companion as Miss Gibson always at hand," said he, bowing to Molly.
"Oh, but I call it solitude for a wife when her husband is away. PoorMr. Kirkpatrick was never happy unless I always went with him;--allhis walks, all his visits, he liked me to be with him. But, somehow,Mr. Gibson feels as if I should be rather in his way."
"I don't think you could ride pillion behind him on Black Bess,mamma," said Molly. "And unless you could do that, you could hardlygo with him in his rounds up and down all the rough lanes."
"Oh! but he might keep a brougham! I've often said so. And then Icould use it for visiting in the evenings. Really it was one reasonwhy I didn't go to the Hollingford Charity Ball. I couldn't bringmyself to use the dirty fly from the 'George.' We really must stirpapa up against next winter, Molly; it will never do for you and--"
She pulled herself up suddenly, and looked furtively at Mr. Prestonto see if he had taken any notice of her abruptness. Of course hehad, but he was not going to show it. He turned to Molly, and said,--
"Have you ever been to a public ball yet, Miss Gibson?"
"No!" said Molly.
"It will be a great pleasure to you when the time comes."
"I'm not sure. I shall like it if I have plenty of partners; but I'mafraid I shan't know many people."
"And you suppose that young men haven't their own ways and means ofbeing introduced to pretty girls?"
It was exactly one of the speeches Molly had disliked him for before;and delivered, too, in that kind of underbred manner which showedthat it was meant to convey a personal compliment. Molly took greatcredit to herself for the unconcerned manner with which she went onwith her tatting exactly as if she had never heard it.
"I only hope I may be one of your partners at the first ball you goto. Pray, remember my early application for that honour, when you areoverwhelmed with requests for dances."
"I don't choose to engage myself beforehand," said Molly, perceiving,from under her dropped eyelids, that he was leaning forward andlooking at her as though he was determined to have an answer.
"Young ladies are always very cautious in fact, however modest theymay be in profession," he replied, addressing himself in a nonchalantmanner to Mrs. Gibson. "In spite of Miss Gibson's apprehension of nothaving many partners, she declines the certainty of having one. Isuppose Miss Kirkpatrick will have returned from France before then?"
He said these last words exactly in the same tone as he had usedbefore; but Molly's instinct told her that he was making an effort todo so. She looked up. He was playing with his hat, almost as if hedid not care to have any answer to his question. Yet he was listeningacutely, and with a half smile on his face.
Mrs. Gibson reddened a little, and hesitated,--
"Yes; certainly. My daughter will be with us next winter, I believe;and I daresay she will go out with us."
"Why can't she say at once that Cynthia is here now?" asked Molly ofherself, yet glad that Mr. Preston's curiosity was baffled.
He still smiled; but this time he looked up at Mrs. Gibson, as heasked,--"You have good news from her, I hope?"
"Yes; very. By the way, how are our old friends the Robinsons? Howoften I think of their kindness to me at Ashcombe! Dear good people,I wish I could see them again."
"I will certainly tell them of your kind inquiries. They are verywell, I believe."
Just at this moment, Molly heard the familiar sound of the clickand opening of the front door. She knew it must be Cynthia; and,conscious of some mysterious reason which made Mrs. Gibson wish toconceal her daughter's whereabouts from Mr. Preston, and maliciouslydesirous to baffle him, she rose to leave the room, and meet Cynthiaon the stairs; but one of the lost crewels of worsted had entangleditself in her gown and feet, and before she had freed herself of theencumbrance, Cynthia had opened the drawing-room door, and stoodin it, looking at her mother, at Molly, at Mr. Preston, but notadvancing one step. Her colour, which had been brilliant the firstmoment of her entrance, faded away as she gazed; but her eyes--herbeautiful eyes--usually so soft and grave, seemed to fill with fire,and her brows to contract, as she took the resolution to come forwardand take her place among the three, who were all looking at her withdifferent emotions. She moved calmly and slowly forwards; Mr. Prestonwent a step or two to meet her, his hand held out, and the wholeexpression of his face that of eager delight.
But she took no notice of the outstretched hand, nor of the chairthat he offered her. She sate down on a little sofa in one of thewindows, and called Molly to her.
"Look at my purchases," said she. "This green ribbon wasfourteen-pence a yard, this silk three shillings," and so she wenton, forcing herself to speak about these trifles as if they wereall the world to her, and she had no attention to throw away on hermother and her mother's visitor.
Mr. Preston took his cue from her. He, too, talked of the news ofthe day, the local gossip--but Molly, who glanced up at him fromtime to time, was almost alarmed by the bad expression of suppressedanger, almost amounting to vindictiveness, which entirely marred hishandsome looks. She did not wish to look again; and tried rather toback up Cynthia's efforts at maintaining a separate conversation. Yetshe could not help overhearing Mrs. Gibson's strain after increasedcivility, as if to make up for Cynthia's rudeness, and, if possible,to deprecate his anger. She talked perpetually, as though her objectwere to detain him; whereas, previous to Cynthia's return, she hadallowed frequent pauses in the conversation, as though to give himthe opportunity to take his leave.
In the course of the conversation between them the Hamleys came up.Mrs. Gibson was never unwilling to dwell upon Molly's intimacy withthis county family; and when the latter caught the sound of her ownname, her stepmother was saying,--
"Poor Mrs. Hamley could hardly do without Molly; she quite lookedupon her as a daughter, especially towards the last, when, I amafraid, she had a good deal of anxiety. Mr. Osborne Hamley--I daresayyou have heard--he did not do so well at college, and they hadexpected so much--parents will, you know; but what did it signify?for he
had not to earn his living! I call it a very foolish kind ofambition when a young man has not to go into a profession."
"Well, at any rate, the Squire must be satisfied now. I saw thismorning's _Times_, with the Cambridge examination lists in it. Isn'tthe second son called after his father, Roger?"
"Yes," said Molly, starting up, and coming nearer.
"He's senior wrangler, that's all," said Mr. Preston, almost asthough he were vexed with himself for having anything to say thatcould give her pleasure. Molly went back to her seat by Cynthia.
"Poor Mrs. Hamley," said she, very softly, as if to herself. Cynthiatook her hand, in sympathy with Molly's sad and tender look, ratherthan because she understood all that was passing in her mind, nor didshe quite understand it herself. A death that had come out of time;a wonder whether the dead knew what passed upon the earth they hadleft--the brilliant Osborne's failure, Roger's success; the vanityof human wishes,--all these thoughts, and what they suggested, wereinextricably mingled up in her mind. She came to herself in a fewminutes. Mr. Preston was saying all the unpleasant things he couldthink of about the Hamleys in a tone of false sympathy.
"The poor old Squire--not the wisest of men--has woefully mismanagedhis estate. And Osborne Hamley is too fine a gentleman to understandthe means by which to improve the value of the land--even if he hadthe capital. A man who had practical knowledge of agriculture, andsome thousands of ready money, might bring the rental up to eightthousand or so. Of course, Osborne will try and marry some one withmoney; the family is old and well-established, and he mustn't objectto commercial descent, though I daresay the Squire will for him; butthen the young fellow himself is not the man for the work. No! thefamily's going down fast; and it's a pity when these old Saxon housesvanish off the land; but it is 'kismet' with the Hamleys. Even thesenior wrangler--if it is that Roger Hamley--he will have spent allhis brains in one effort. You never hear of a senior wrangler beingworth anything afterwards. He'll be a Fellow of his college, ofcourse--that will be a livelihood for him at any rate."
"I believe in senior wranglers," said Cynthia, her clear high voiceringing through the room. "And from all I've ever heard of Mr. RogerHamley, I believe he will keep up the distinction he has earned. AndI don't believe that the house of Hamley is so near extinction inwealth and fame, and good name."
"They are fortunate in having Miss Kirkpatrick's good word," said Mr.Preston, rising to take his leave.
"Dear Molly," said Cynthia, in a whisper, "I know nothing about yourfriends the Hamleys, except that they are your friends, and what youhave told me about them. But I won't have that man speaking of themso--and your eyes filling with tears all the time. I'd sooner swearto their having all the talents and good fortune under the sun."
The only person of whom Cynthia appeared to be wholesomely afraidwas Mr. Gibson. When he was present she was more careful in speaking,and showed more deference to her mother. Her evident respect for him,and desire to win his good opinion, made her curb herself before him;and in this manner she earned his favour as a lively, sensible girl,with just so much knowledge of the world as made her a very desirablecompanion to Molly. Indeed, she made something of the same kind ofimpression on all men. They were first struck with her personalappearance; and then with her pretty deprecating manner, whichappealed to them much as if she had said, "You are wise, and I amfoolish--have mercy on my folly." It was a way she had; it meantnothing really; and she was hardly conscious of it herself; but itwas very captivating all the same. Even old Williams, the gardener,felt it; he said to his confidante, Molly--
"Eh, miss, but that be a rare young lady! She do have such prettycoaxing ways. I be to teach her to bud roses come the season--andI'll warrant ye she'll learn sharp enough, for all she says she beesso stupid."
If Molly had not had the sweetest disposition in the world she mighthave become jealous of all the allegiance laid at Cynthia's feet;but she never thought of comparing the amount of admiration andlove which they each received. Yet once she did feel a little asif Cynthia were poaching on her manor. The invitation to the quietdinner had been sent to Osborne Hamley, and declined by him. But hethought it right to call soon afterwards. It was the first time Mollyhad seen any of the family since she left the Hall, just before Mrs.Hamley's death; and there was so much that she wanted to ask. Shetried to wait patiently till Mrs. Gibson had exhausted the first gushof her infinite nothings; and then Molly came in with her modestquestions. How was the Squire? Had he returned to his old habits? Hadhis health suffered?--putting each inquiry with as light and delicatea touch as if she had been dressing a wound. She hesitated a little,a very little, before speaking of Roger; for just one moment thethought flitted across her mind, that Osborne might feel the contrastbetween his own and his brother's college career too painfully tolike to have it referred to; but then she remembered the generousbrotherly love that had always existed between the two, and had justentered upon the subject, when Cynthia in obedience to her mother'ssummons, came into the room, and took up her work. No one could havebeen quieter--she hardly uttered a word; but Osborne seemed to fallunder her power at once. He no longer gave his undivided attentionto Molly. He cut short his answers to her questions; and by-and-by,without Molly's rightly understanding how it was, he had turnedtowards Cynthia, and was addressing himself to her. Molly saw thelook of content on Mrs. Gibson's face; perhaps it was her ownmortification at not having heard all she wished to know about Roger,which gave her a keener insight than usual, but certain it is thatall at once she perceived that Mrs. Gibson would not dislike amarriage between Osborne and Cynthia, and considered the presentoccasion as an auspicious beginning. Remembering the secret which shehad been let into so unwillingly, Molly watched his behaviour, almostas if she had been retained in the interest of the absent wife; but,after all, thinking as much of the possibility of his attractingCynthia as of the unknown and mysterious Mrs. Osborne Hamley. Hismanner was expressive of great interest and of strong prepossessionin favour of the beautiful girl to whom he was talking. He was indeep mourning, which showed off his slight figure and delicaterefined face. But there was nothing of flirting, as far as Mollyunderstood the meaning of the word, in either looks or words.Cynthia, too, was extremely quiet; she was always much quieter withmen than with women; it was part of the charm of her soft allurementthat she was so passive. They were talking of France. Mrs. Gibsonherself had passed two or three years of her girlhood there; andCynthia's late return from Boulogne made it a very natural subjectof conversation. But Molly was thrown out of it; and with her heartstill unsatisfied as to the details of Roger's success, she had tostand up at last, and receive Osborne's good-by, scarcely longer ormore intimate than his farewell to Cynthia. As soon as he was gone,Mrs. Gibson began in his praise.
"Well, really, I begin to have some faith in long descent. What agentleman he is! How agreeable and polite! So different from thatforward Mr. Preston," she continued, looking a little anxiously atCynthia. Cynthia, quite aware that her reply was being watched for,said, coolly,--
"Mr. Preston doesn't improve on acquaintance. There was a time,mamma, when I think both you and I thought him very agreeable."
"I don't remember. You've a clearer memory than I have. But we weretalking of this delightful Mr. Osborne Hamley. Why, Molly, you werealways talking of his brother--it was Roger this, and Roger that--Ican't think how it was you so seldom mentioned this young man."
"I didn't know I had mentioned Mr. Roger Hamley so often," saidMolly, blushing a little. "But I saw much more of him--he was more athome."
"Well, well! It's all right, my dear. I daresay he suits you best.But really, when I saw Osborne Hamley close to my Cynthia, I couldn'thelp thinking--but perhaps I'd better not tell you what I wasthinking of. Only they are each of them so much above the average inappearance; and, of course, that suggests things."
"I perfectly understand what you were thinking of, mamma," saidCynthia, with the greatest composure; "and so does Molly, I have nodoubt."
"Well! there
's no harm in it, I'm sure. Did you hear him say that,though he did not like to leave his father alone just at present, yetthat when his brother Roger came back from Cambridge, he should feelmore at liberty! It was quite as much as to say, 'If you will ask meto dinner then, I shall be delighted to come.' And chickens will beso much cheaper, and cook has such a nice way of boning them, anddoing them up with forcemeat. Everything seems to be falling outso fortunately. And Molly, my dear, you know I won't forget you.By-and-by, when Roger Hamley has taken his turn at stopping at homewith his father, we will ask him to one of our little quiet dinners."
Molly was very slow at taking this in; but in about a minute thesense of it had reached her brain, and she went all over very red andhot; especially as she saw that Cynthia was watching the light comeinto her mind with great amusement.
"I'm afraid Molly isn't properly grateful, mamma. If I were you, Iwouldn't exert myself to give a dinner-party on her account. Bestowall your kindness upon me."
Molly was often puzzled by Cynthia's speeches to her mother; and thiswas one of these occasions. But she was more anxious to say somethingfor herself; she was so much annoyed at the implication in Mrs.Gibson's last words.
"Mr. Roger Hamley has been very good to me; he was a great deal athome when I was there, and Mr. Osborne Hamley was very little there:that was the reason I spoke so much more of one than the other. If Ihad--if he had,"--losing her coherence in the difficulty of findingwords,--"I don't think I should,--oh, Cynthia, instead of laughing atme, I think you might help me to explain myself!"
Instead, Cynthia gave a diversion to the conversation.
"Mamma's paragon gives me an idea of weakness. I can't quite make outwhether it's in body or mind. Which is it, Molly?"
"He is not strong, I know; but he's very accomplished and clever.Every one says that,--even papa, who doesn't generally praise youngmen. That made the puzzle the greater when he did so badly atcollege."
"Then it's his character that is weak. I'm sure there's weaknesssomewhere; but he's very agreeable. It must have been very pleasant,staying at the Hall."
"Yes; but it's all over now."
"Oh, nonsense!" said Mrs. Gibson, wakening up from counting thestitches in her pattern. "We shall have the young men coming todinner pretty often, you'll see. Your father likes them, and I shallalways make a point of welcoming his friends. They can't go onmourning for a mother for ever. I expect we shall see a great deal ofthem; and that the two families will become very intimate. After all,these good Hollingford people are terribly behindhand, and I shouldsay, rather commonplace."
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