Wives and Daughters

by Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  A PASSIVE COQUETTE.

  It is not to be supposed that such an encounter as Mr. Preston hadjust had with Roger Hamley sweetened the regards in which the twoyoung men henceforward held each other. They had barely spoken to oneanother before, and but seldom met; for the land-agent's employmenthad hitherto lain at Ashcombe, some sixteen or seventeen miles fromHamley. He was older than Roger by several years; but during thetime he had been in the county Osborne and Roger had been at schooland at college. Mr. Preston was prepared to dislike the Hamleys formany unreasonable reasons. Cynthia and Molly had both spoken ofthe brothers with familiar regard, implying considerable intimacy;their flowers had been preferred to his on the occasion of the ball;most people spoke well of them; and Mr. Preston had an animal'sinstinctive jealousy and combativeness against all popular young men.Their "position"--poor as the Hamleys might be--was far higher thanhis own in the county; and, moreover, he was agent to the great Whiglord, whose political interests were diametrically opposed to thoseof the old Tory squire. Not that Lord Cumnor troubled himself muchabout his political interests. His family had obtained property andtitle from the Whigs at the time of the Hanoverian succession andso, traditionally, he was a Whig, and had belonged in his youth toWhig clubs, where he had lost considerable sums of money to Whiggamblers. All this was satisfactory and consistent enough. And ifLord Hollingford had not been returned for the county on the Whiginterest--as his father had been before him, until he had succeededto the title--it is quite probable Lord Cumnor would have consideredthe British constitution in danger, and the patriotism of hisancestors ungratefully ignored. But, excepting at elections, he hadno notion of making Whig and Tory a party cry. He had lived too muchin London, and was of too sociable a nature, to exclude any man whojumped with his humour from the hospitality he was always ready tooffer, be the agreeable acquaintance Whig, Tory, or Radical. But inthe county of which he was lord-lieutenant, the old party distinctionwas still a shibboleth by which men were tested as to their fitnessfor social intercourse, as well as on the hustings. If by any chancea Whig found himself at a Tory dinner-table--or vice versa--the foodwas hard of digestion, and wine and viands were criticized ratherthan enjoyed. A marriage between the young people of the separateparties was almost as unheard-of and prohibited an alliance as thatof Romeo and Juliet's. And of course Mr. Preston was not a man inwhose breast such prejudices would die away. They were an excitementto him for one thing, and called out all his talent for intrigue onbehalf of the party to which he was allied. Moreover, he consideredit as loyalty to his employer to "scatter his enemies" by any meansin his power. He had always hated and despised the Tories in general;and after that interview on the marshy common in front of Silas'scottage, he hated the Hamleys and Roger especially, with a verychoice and particular hatred. "That prig," as hereafter he alwaysdesignated Roger--"he shall pay for it yet," he said to himself byway of consolation, after the father and son had left him. "What alout it is!"--watching the receding figures, "The old chap has twiceas much spunk," as the Squire tugged at his bridle reins. "The oldmare could make her way better without being led, my fine fellow. ButI see through your dodge. You're afraid of your old father turningback and getting into another rage. Position indeed! a beggarlysquire--a man who did turn off his men just before winter, to rotor starve, for all he cared--it's just like a brutal old Tory." And,under the cover of sympathy with the dismissed labourers, Mr. Prestonindulged his own private pique very pleasantly.

  Mr. Preston had many causes for rejoicing: he might have forgottenthis discomfiture, as he chose to feel it, in the remembrance ofan increase of income, and in the popularity he enjoyed in his newabode. All Hollingford came forward to do the earl's new agenthonour. Mr. Sheepshanks had been a crabbed, crusty old bachelor,frequenting inn-parlours on market days, not unwilling to givedinners to three or four chosen friends and familiars, with whom,in return, he dined from time to time, and with whom, also, he keptup an amicable rivalry in the matter of wines. But he "did notappreciate female society," as Miss Browning elegantly worded hisunwillingness to accept the invitations of the Hollingford ladies.He was even unrefined enough to speak of these invitations to hisintimate friends aforesaid as "those old women's worrying," but, ofcourse, they never heard of this. Little quarter-of-sheet notes,without any envelopes--that invention was unknown in those days--butsealed in the corners when folded up instead of gummed as they arefastened at present--occasionally passed between Mr. Sheepshanksand the Miss Brownings, Mrs. Goodenough or others. From thefirst-mentioned ladies the form ran as follows:--"Miss Browningand her sister, Miss Phoebe Browning, present their respectfulcompliments to Mr. Sheepshanks, and beg to inform him that a fewfriends have kindly consented to favour them with their company attea on Thursday next. Miss Browning and Miss Phoebe will take itvery kindly if Mr. Sheepshanks will join their little circle."

  Now for Mrs. Goodenough.

  "Mrs. Goodenough's respects to Mr. Sheepshanks, and hopes he is ingood health. She would be very glad if he would favour her with hiscompany to tea on Monday. My daughter, in Combermere, has sent me acouple of guinea-fowls, and Mrs. Goodenough hopes Mr. Sheepshankswill stay and take a bit of supper."

  No need for the dates of the days of the month. The good ladies wouldhave thought that the world was coming to an end if the invitationhad been sent out a week before the party therein named. But not evenguinea-fowls for supper could tempt Mr. Sheepshanks. He rememberedthe made-wines he had tasted in former days at Hollingford parties,and shuddered. Bread-and-cheese, with a glass of bitter-beer, or alittle brandy-and-water, partaken of in his old clothes (which hadworn into shapes of loose comfort, and smelt strongly of tobacco),he liked better than roast guinea-fowl and birch-wine, even withoutthrowing into the balance the stiff uneasy coat, and the tightneckcloth and tighter shoes. So the ex-agent had been seldom, ifever, seen at the Hollingford tea-parties. He might have had his formof refusal stereotyped, it was so invariably the same.

  "Mr. Sheepshanks' duty to Miss Browning and her sister" (to Mrs.Goodenough, or to others, as the case might be). "Business ofimportance prevents him from availing himself of their politeinvitation for which he begs to return his best thanks."

  But now that Mr. Preston had succeeded, and come to live inHollingford, things were changed.

  He accepted every civility right and left, and won golden opinionsaccordingly. Parties were made in his honour, "just as if he had beena bride," Miss Phoebe Browning said; and to all of them he went.

  "What's the man after?" said Mr. Sheepshanks to himself, when heheard of his successor's affability, and sociability, and amiability,and a variety of other agreeable "ilities," from the friends whom theold steward still retained at Hollingford. "Preston's not a man toput himself out for nothing. He's deep. He'll be after somethingsolider than popularity."

  The sagacious old bachelor was right. Mr. Preston was "after"something more than mere popularity. He went wherever he had a chanceof meeting Cynthia Kirkpatrick.

  It might be that Molly's spirits were more depressed at this timethan they were in general; or that Cynthia was exultant, unawares toherself, in the amount of attention and admiration she was receivingfrom Roger by day, from Mr. Preston in the evening, but the two girlsseemed to have parted company in cheerfulness. Molly was alwaysgentle, but very grave and silent. Cynthia, on the contrary, wasmerry, full of pretty mockeries, and hardly ever silent. When firstshe came to Hollingford one of her great charms had been that shewas such a gracious listener; now her excitement, by whatever caused,made her too restless to hold her tongue; yet what she said was toopretty, too witty, not to be a winning and sparkling interruption,eagerly welcomed by those who were under her sway. Mr. Gibson wasthe only one who observed this change, and reasoned upon it. "She'sin a mental fever of some kind," thought he to himself. "She's veryfascinating, but I don't quite understand her."

  If Molly had not been so entirely loyal to her friend, she might havethought this constant brilliancy a little
tiresome when brought intoevery-day life; it was not the sunshiny rest of a placid lake, it wasrather the glitter of the pieces of a broken mirror, which confusesand bewilders. Cynthia would not talk quietly about anything now;subjects of thought or conversation seemed to have lost theirrelative value. There were exceptions to this mood of hers, when shesank into deep fits of silence, that would have been gloomy had itnot been for the never varying sweetness of her temper. If there wasa little kindness to be done to either Mr. Gibson or Molly, Cynthiawas just as ready as ever to do it; nor did she refuse to do anythingher mother wished, however fidgety might be the humour that promptedthe wish. But in this latter case Cynthia's eyes were not quickenedby her heart.

  Molly was dejected, she knew not why. Cynthia had drifted a littleapart; that was not it. Her stepmother had whimsical moods; and ifCynthia displeased her, she would oppress Molly with small kindnessesand pseudo-affection. Or else everything was wrong, the world wasout of joint, and Molly had failed in her mission to set it right,and was to be blamed accordingly. But Molly was of too steady adisposition to be much moved by the changeableness of an unreasonableperson. She might be annoyed, or irritated, but she was notdepressed. That was not it. The real cause was certainly this. Aslong as Roger was drawn to Cynthia, and sought her of his own accord,it had been a sore pain and bewilderment to Molly's heart; but it wasa straightforward attraction, and one which Molly acknowledged, inher humility and great power of loving, to be the most natural thingin the world. She would look at Cynthia's beauty and grace, and feelas if no one could resist it. And when she witnessed all the smallsigns of honest devotion which Roger was at no pains to conceal, shethought, with a sigh, that surely no girl could help relinquishingher heart to such tender, strong keeping as Roger's characterensured. She would have been willing to cut off her right hand,if need were, to forward his attachment to Cynthia; and theself-sacrifice would have added a strange zest to a happy crisis. Shewas indignant at what she considered to be Mrs. Gibson's obtusenessto so much goodness and worth; and when she called Roger "a countrylout," or any other depreciative epithet, Molly would pinch herselfin order to keep silent. But after all, those were peaceful dayscompared to the present, when she, seeing the wrong side of thetapestry, after the wont of those who dwell in the same house witha plotter, became aware that Mrs. Gibson had totally changed herbehaviour to Roger, from some cause unknown to Molly.

  But he was always exactly the same; "steady as old Time," as Mrs.Gibson called him, with her usual originality; "a rock of strength,under whose very shadow there is rest," as Mrs. Hamley had oncespoken of him. So the cause of Mrs. Gibson's altered manner lay notin him. Yet now he was sure of a welcome, let him come at any hour hewould. He was playfully reproved for having taken Mrs. Gibson's wordstoo literally, and for never coming before lunch. But he said heconsidered her reasons for such words to be valid, and should respectthem. And this was done out of his simplicity, and from no tinge ofmalice. Then in their family conversations at home, Mrs. Gibson wasconstantly making projects for throwing Roger and Cynthia together,with so evident a betrayal of her wish to bring about an engagement,that Molly chafed at the net spread so evidently, and at Roger'sblindness in coming so willingly to be entrapped. She forgot hisprevious willingness, his former evidences of manly fondness for thebeautiful Cynthia; she only saw plots of which he was the victim, andCynthia the conscious if passive bait. She felt as if she could nothave acted as Cynthia did; no, not even to gain Roger's love. Cynthiaheard and saw as much of the domestic background as she did, and yetshe submitted to the role assigned to her! To be sure, this rolewould have been played by her unconsciously; the things prescribedwere what she would naturally have done; but because they wereprescribed--by implication only, it is true--Molly would haveresisted; have gone out, for instance, when she was expected to stayat home; or have lingered in the garden when a long country walk wasplanned. At last--for she could not help loving Cynthia, come whatwould--she determined to believe that Cynthia was entirely unaware ofall; but it was with an effort that she brought herself to believeit.

  It may be all very pleasant "to sport with Amaryllis in the shade,or with the tangles of Neaera's hair," but young men at the outset oftheir independent life have many other cares in this prosaic Englandto occupy their time and their thoughts. Roger was Fellow of Trinity,to be sure; and from the outside it certainly appeared as if hisposition, as long as he chose to keep unmarried, was a very easyone. His was not a nature, however, to sink down into ingloriousease, even had his fellowship income been at his disposal. Helooked forward to an active life; in what direction he had not yetdetermined. He knew what were his talents and his tastes; and didnot wish the former to lie buried, nor the latter, which he regardedas gifts, fitting him for some peculiar work, to be disregarded orthwarted. He rather liked awaiting an object, secure in his ownenergy to force his way to it, when once he saw it clearly. Hereserved enough of money for his own personal needs, which weresmall, and for the ready furtherance of any project he might seefit to undertake; the rest of his income was Osborne's; given andaccepted in the spirit which made the bond between these two brothersso rarely perfect. It was only the thought of Cynthia that threwRoger off his balance. A strong man in everything else, about herhe was as a child. He knew that he could not marry and retainhis fellowship; his intention was to hold himself loose from anyemployment or profession until he had found one to his mind, sothere was no immediate prospect--no prospect for many years, indeed,that he would be able to marry. Yet he went on seeking Cynthia'ssweet company, listening to the music of her voice, basking in hersunshine, and feeding his passion in every possible way, just like anunreasoning child. He knew that it was folly--and yet he did it; andit was perhaps this that made him so sympathetic with Osborne. Rogerracked his brains about Osborne's affairs much more frequently thanOsborne troubled himself. Indeed, he had become so ailing and languidof late, that even the Squire made only very faint objections tohis desire for frequent change of scene, though formerly he used togrumble so much at the necessary expenditure it involved.

  "After all, it doesn't cost much," the Squire said to Roger one day."Choose how he does it, he does it cheaply; he used to come and askme for twenty, where now he does it for five. But he and I havelost each other's language, that's what we have! and my dictionary"(only he called it "dixonary") "has all got wrong because of thoseconfounded debts--which he will never explain to me, or talkabout--he always holds me off at arm's length when I begin uponit--he does, Roger--me, his old dad, as was his primest favourite ofall, when he was a little bit of a chap!"

  The Squire dwelt so much upon Osborne's reserved behaviour tohimself, that brooding over this one subject perpetually he becamemore morose and gloomy than ever in his manner to Osborne, resentingthe want of the confidence and affection that he thus repelled. Somuch so that Roger, who desired to avoid being made the receptacleof his father's complaints against Osborne--and Roger's passivelistening was the sedative his father always sought--had oftento have recourse to the discussion of the drainage works as acounter-irritant. The Squire had felt Mr. Preston's speech aboutthe dismissal of his work-people very keenly; it fell in with thereproaches of his own conscience, though, as he would repeat toRoger over and over again,--"I couldn't help it--how could I?--I wasdrained dry of ready money--I wish the land was drained as dry asI am," said he, with a touch of humour that came out before he wasaware, and at which he smiled sadly enough. "What was I to do, I askyou, Roger? I know I was in a rage--I've had a deal to make me so--andmaybe I didn't think as much about consequences as I should ha'done, when I gave orders for 'em to be sent off; but I couldn't havedone otherwise if I'd ha' thought for a twelvemonth in cool blood.Consequences! I hate consequences; they've always been against me;they have. I'm so tied up I can't cut down a stick more, and that's a'consequence' of having the property so deucedly well settled; I wishI'd never had any ancestors. Ay, laugh, lad! it does me good to seethee laugh a bit, after Osborne's long face, which always grows longerat sight
o' me!"

  "Look here, father!" said Roger, suddenly, "I'll manage somehow aboutthe money for the works. You trust to me; give me two months to turnmyself in, and you shall have some money, at any rate, to beginwith."

  The Squire looked at him, and his face brightened as a child's doesat the promise of a pleasure made to him by some one on whom he canrely. He became a little graver, however, as he said,--"But how willyou get it? It's hard enough work."

  "Never mind; I'll get it--a hundred or so at first--I don't yetknow how--but remember, father, I'm a senior wrangler, and a 'verypromising young writer,' as that review called me. Oh, you don't knowwhat a fine fellow you've got for a son! You should have read thatreview to know all my wonderful merits."

  "I did, Roger. I heard Gibson speaking of it, and I made him get itfor me. I should have understood it better if they could have calledthe animals by their English names, and not put so much of theirFrench jingo into it."

  "But it was an answer to an article by a French writer," pleadedRoger.

  "I'd ha' let him alone!" said the Squire, earnestly. "We had tobeat 'em, and we did it at Waterloo; but I'd not demean myself byanswering any of their lies, if I was you. But I got through thereview, for all their Latin and French--I did; and if you doubt me,you just look at the end of the great ledger, turn it upside down,and you'll find I've copied out all the fine words they said of you:'careful observer,' 'strong nervous English,' 'rising philosopher.'Oh! I can nearly say it all off by heart, for many a time when I'mfrabbed by bad debts, or Osborne's bills, or moidered with accounts,I turn the ledger wrong way up, and smoke a pipe over it, while Iread those pieces out of the review which speak about you, lad!"