CHAPTER XXXII.
COMING EVENTS.
Roger had turned over many plans in his mind, by which he thoughtthat he could obtain sufficient money for the purpose he desired toaccomplish. His careful grandfather, who had been a merchant in thecity, had so tied up the few thousands he had left to his daughter,that although, in case of her death before her husband's, the lattermight enjoy the life-interest thereof, yet, in case of both theirdeaths, their second son did not succeed to the property until he wasfive-and-twenty; and if he died before that age, the money that wouldthen have been his went to one of his cousins on the maternal side.In short, the old merchant had taken as many precautions about hislegacy as if it had been for tens, instead of units of thousands. Ofcourse Roger might have slipped through all these meshes by insuringhis life until the specified age; and, probably, if he had consultedany lawyer, this course would have been suggested to him. But hedisliked taking any one into his confidence on the subject ofhis father's want of ready money. He had obtained a copy of hisgrandfather's will at Doctors' Commons, and he imagined that all thecontingencies involved in it would be patent to the light of natureand common sense. He was a little mistaken in this, but not the lessresolved that money in some way he would have in order to fulfil hispromise to his father, and for the ulterior purpose of giving thesquire some daily interest to distract his thoughts from the regretsand cares that were almost weakening his mind. It was "Roger Hamley,senior wrangler and Fellow of Trinity, to the highest bidder, nomatter what honest employment," and presently it came down to "anybidder at all."
Another perplexity and distress at this time weighed upon Roger.Osborne, heir to the estate, was going to have a child. The Hamleyproperty was entailed on "heirs male born in lawful wedlock." Was the"wedlock" lawful? Osborne never seemed to doubt that it was--neverseemed, in fact, to think twice about it. And if he, the husband, didnot, how much less did Aimee, the trustful wife? Yet who could tellhow much misery any shadows of illegality might cast into the future?One evening Roger, sitting by the languid, careless, dilettanteOsborne, began to question him as to the details of the marriage.Osborne knew instinctively at what Roger was aiming. It was not thathe did not desire perfect legality in justice to his wife; it wasthat he was so indisposed at the time that he hated to be bothered.It was something like the refrain of Gray's Scandinavian Prophetess:"Leave me, leave me to repose."
"But do try and tell me how you managed it."
"How tiresome you are, Roger!" put in Osborne.
"Well, I daresay I am. Go on!"
"I've told you Morrison married us. You remember old Morrison atTrinity?"
"Yes; as good and blunder-headed a fellow as ever lived."
"Well, he's taken orders; and the examination for priest's ordersfatigued him so much that he got his father to give him a hundred ortwo for a tour on the Continent. He meant to get to Rome, because heheard that there were such pleasant winters there. So he turned up atMetz in August."
"I don't see why."
"No more did he. He never was great in geography, you know; andsomehow he thought that Metz, pronounced French fashion, must be onthe road to Rome. Some one had told him so in fun. However, it wasvery well for me that I met with him there, for I was determined tobe married, and that without loss of time."
"But Aimee is a Catholic?"
"That's true! but you see I am not. You don't suppose I would do herany wrong, Roger?" asked Osborne, sitting up in his lounging-chair,and speaking rather indignantly to Roger, his face suddenly flushingred.
"No! I'm sure you would not mean it; but, you see, there's a childcoming, and this estate is entailed on 'heirs-male.' Now, I wantto know if the marriage is legal or not? and it seems to me it's aticklish question."
"Oh!" said Osborne, falling back into repose, "if that's all, Isuppose you're next heir-male, and I can trust you as I can myself.You know my marriage is _bona fide_ in intention, and I believeit to be legal in fact. We went over to Strasbourg; Aimee pickedup a friend--a good middle-aged Frenchwoman--who served halfas bridesmaid, half as chaperone, and then we went before themayor--prefet--what do you call them? I think Morrison rather enjoyedthe spree. I signed all manner of papers in the prefecture; I did notread them over, for fear lest I could not sign them conscientiously.It was the safest plan. Aimee kept trembling so I thought she wouldfaint; and then we went off to the nearest English chaplaincy,Carlsruhe, and the chaplain was away, so Morrison easily got the loanof the chapel, and we were married the next day."
"But surely some registration or certificate was necessary?"
"Morrison said he would undertake all those forms; and he ought toknow his own business. I know I tipped him pretty well for the job."
"You must be married again," said Roger, after a pause, "andthat before the child is born. Have you got a certificate of themarriage?"
"I daresay Morrison has got it somewhere. But I believe I'm legallymarried according to the laws both of England and France; I reallydo, old fellow. I've got the prefet's papers somewhere."
"Never mind! you shall be married again in England. Aimee goes to theRoman Catholic chapel at Prestham, doesn't she?"
"Yes. She is so good I wouldn't disturb her in her religion for theworld."
"Then you shall be married both there and at the church of the parishin which she lives as well," said Roger, decidedly.
"It's a great deal of trouble, unnecessary trouble, and unnecessaryexpense, I should say," said Osborne. "Why can't you leave wellalone? Neither Aimee nor I are of the sort of stuff to turnscoundrels and deny the legality of our marriage; and if the childis a boy and my father dies, and I die, why I'm sure you'll do himjustice, as sure as I am of myself, old fellow!"
"But if I die into the bargain? Make a hecatomb of the presentHamleys all at once, while you are about it. Who succeeds asheir-male?"
Osborne thought for a moment. "One of the Irish Hamleys, I suppose.I fancy they are needy chaps. Perhaps you're right. But what need tohave such gloomy forebodings?"
"The law makes one have foresight in such affairs," said Roger. "SoI'll go down to Aimee next week when I'm in town, and I'll make allnecessary arrangements before you come. I think you'll be happier ifit is all done."
"I shall be happier if I've a chance of seeing the little woman, thatI grant you. But what is taking you up to town? I wish I'd money torun about like you, instead of being shut up for ever in this dullold house."
Osborne was apt occasionally to contrast his position with Roger'sin a tone of complaint, forgetting that both were the results ofcharacter, and also that out of his income Roger gave up so largea portion for the maintenance of his brother's wife. But if thisungenerous thought of Osborne's had been set clearly before hisconscience, he would have smote his breast and cried "Mea culpa" withthe best of them; it was only that he was too indolent to keep anunassisted conscience.
"I shouldn't have thought of going up," said Roger, reddening as ifhe had been accused of spending another's money instead of his own,"if I hadn't had to go up on business. Lord Hollingford has writtenfor me; he knows my great wish for employment, and has heard ofsomething which he considers suitable; there's his letter if you careto read it. But it does not tell anything definitely."
Osborne read the letter and returned it to Roger. After a moment ortwo of silence he said,--"Why do you want money? Are we taking toomuch from you? It's a great shame of me; but what can I do? Onlysuggest a career for me, and I'll follow it to-morrow." He spoke asif Roger had been reproaching him.
"My dear fellow, don't get those notions into your head! I mustdo something for myself sometimes, and I've been on the look-out.Besides, I want my father to go on with his drainage; it would dogood both to his health and his spirits. If I can advance any part ofthe money requisite, he and you shall pay me interest until you canreturn the capital."
"Roger, you're the providence of the family," exclaimed Osborne,suddenly struck by admiration at his brother's conduct, andforgetting to contrast it with his o
wn.
So Roger went up to London and Osborne followed him, and for two orthree weeks the Gibsons saw nothing of the brothers. But as wavesucceeds to wave, so interest succeeds to interest. "The family,"as they were called, came down for their autumn sojourn at theTowers, and again the house was full of visitors, and the Towers'servants, and carriages, and liveries were seen in the two streets ofHollingford, just as they might have been seen for scores of autumnspast.
So runs the round of life from day to day. Mrs. Gibson found thechances of intercourse with the Towers rather more personallyexciting than Roger's visits, or the rarer calls of Osborne Hamley.Cynthia had an old antipathy to the great family who had made so muchof her mother and so little of her; and whom she considered as insome measure the cause why she had seen so little of her mother inthe days when the little girl had craved for love and found none.Moreover, Cynthia missed her slave, although she did not care forRoger one thousandth part of what he did for her; yet she had foundit not unpleasant to have a man whom she thoroughly respected, andwhom men in general respected, the subject of her eye, the gladministrant to each scarce-spoken wish, a person in whose sightall her words were pearls or diamonds, all her actions heavenlygraciousness, and in whose thoughts she reigned supreme. She hadno modest unconsciousness about her; and yet she was not vain.She knew of all this worship; and when from circumstances she nolonger received it, she missed it. The Earl and the Countess, LordHollingford and Lady Harriet, lords and ladies in general, liveries,dresses, bags of game, and rumours of riding parties, were as nothingto her compared to Roger's absence. And yet she did not love him.No, she did not love him. Molly knew that Cynthia did not love him.Molly grew angry with her many and many a time as the conviction ofthis fact was forced upon her. Molly did not know her own feelings;Roger had no overwhelming interest in what they might be; while hisvery life-breath seemed to depend on what Cynthia felt and thought.Therefore Molly had keen insight into her "sister's" heart; and sheknew that Cynthia did not love Roger. Molly could have cried withpassionate regret at the thought of the unvalued treasure lying atCynthia's feet; and it would have been a merely unselfish regret.It was the old fervid tenderness: "Do not wish for the moon, O mydarling, for I cannot give it thee." Cynthia's love was the moonRoger yearned for; and Molly saw that it was far away and out ofreach, else would she have strained her heart-cords to give it toRoger.
"I am his sister," she would say to herself. "That old bond is notdone away with, though he is too much absorbed by Cynthia to speakabout it just now. His mother called me 'Fanny;' it was almost likean adoption. I must wait and watch, and see if I can do anything formy brother."
One day Lady Harriet came to call on the Gibsons, or rather on Mrs.Gibson, for the latter retained her old jealousy if any one elsein Hollingford was supposed to be on intimate terms at the greathouse, or in the least acquainted with their plans. Mr. Gibson mightpossibly know as much, but then he was professionally bound tosecrecy. Out of the house she considered Mr. Preston as her rival,and he was aware that she did so, and delighted in teasing her byaffecting a knowledge of family plans and details of affairs of whichshe was ignorant. Indoors she was jealous of the fancy Lady Harriethad evidently taken for her step-daughter, and she contrived to placequiet obstacles in the way of a too frequent intercourse between thetwo. These obstacles were not unlike the shield of the knight inthe old story; only instead of the two sides presented to the twotravellers approaching it from opposite quarters, one of which wassilver, and one of which was gold, Lady Harriet saw the smooth andshining yellow radiance, while poor Molly only perceived a dull andheavy lead. To Lady Harriet it was "Molly is gone out; she will be sosorry to miss you, but she was obliged to go to see some old friendsof her mother's whom she ought not to neglect; as I said to her,constancy is everything. It is Sterne, I think, who says, 'Thine ownand thy mother's friends forsake not.' But, dear Lady Harriet, you'llstop till she comes home, won't you? I know how fond you are of her;in fact" (with a little surface playfulness) "I sometimes say youcome more to see her than your poor old Clare."
To Molly it had previously been,--
"Lady Harriet is coming here this morning. I can't have any one elsecoming in. Tell Maria to say I'm not at home. Lady Harriet has alwaysso much to tell me. Dear Lady Harriet! I've known all her secretssince she was twelve years old. You two girls must keep out of theway. Of course she'll ask for you, out of common civility; butyou would only interrupt us if you came in, as you did the otherday;"--now addressing Molly--"I hardly like to say so, but I thoughtit was very forward."
"Maria told me she had asked for me," put in Molly, simply.
"Very forward indeed!" continued Mrs. Gibson, taking no furthernotice of the interruption, except to strengthen the words to whichMolly's little speech had been intended as a correction.
"I think this time I must secure her ladyship from the chances ofsuch an intrusion, by taking care that you are out of the house,Molly. You had better go to the Holly Farm, and speak about thosedamsons I ordered, and which have never been sent."
"I'll go," said Cynthia. "It's far too long a walk for Molly; she'shad a bad cold, and isn't as strong as she was a fortnight ago. Idelight in long walks. If you want Molly out of the way, mamma, sendher to the Miss Brownings'--they are always glad to see her."
"I never said I wanted Molly out of the way, Cynthia," replied Mrs.Gibson. "You always put things in such an exaggerated--I shouldalmost say, so coarse a manner. I am sure, Molly, my love, youcould never have so misunderstood me; it is only on Lady Harriet'saccount."
"I don't think I can walk as far as the Holly Farm; papa would takethe message; Cynthia need not go."
"Well! I'm the last person in the world to tax any one's strength;I'd sooner never see damson preserve again. Suppose you do go and seeMiss Browning; you can pay her a nice long call, you know she likesthat; and ask after Miss Phoebe's cold from me, you know. They werefriends of your mother's, my dear, and I would not have you break offold friendships for the world. 'Constancy above everything' is mymotto, as you know, and the memory of the dead ought always to becherished."
"Now, mamma, where am I to go?" asked Cynthia. "Though Lady Harrietdoesn't care for me as much as she does for Molly--indeed, quite thecontrary I should say--yet she might ask after me, and I had betterbe safely out of the way."
"True!" said Mrs. Gibson, meditatively, yet unconscious of any satirein Cynthia's speech.
"She is much less likely to ask for you, my dear: I almost thinkyou might remain in the house, or you might go to the Holly Farm;I really do want the damsons; or you might stay here in thedining-room, you know, so as to be ready to arrange lunch prettily,if she does take a fancy to stay for it. She is very fanciful,is dear Lady Harriet! I would not like her to think we made anydifference in our meals because she stayed. 'Simple elegance,' as Itell her, 'always is what we aim at.' But still you could put out thebest service, and arrange some flowers, and ask cook what there isfor dinner that she could send us for lunch, and make it all lookpretty, and impromptu, and natural. I think you had better stay athome, Cynthia, and then you could fetch Molly from Miss Brownings' inthe afternoon, you know, and you two could take a walk together."
"After Lady Harriet was fairly gone! I understand, mamma. Off withyou, Molly. Make haste, or Lady Harriet may come and ask for you aswell as mamma. I'll take care and forget where you are going to, sothat no one shall learn from me where you are, and I'll answer formamma's loss of memory."
"Child! what nonsense you talk; you quite confuse me with being sosilly," said Mrs. Gibson, fluttered and annoyed as she usually waswith the Lilliputian darts Cynthia flung at her. She had recourse toher accustomed feckless piece of retaliation--bestowing some favouron Molly; and this did not hurt Cynthia one whit.
"Molly, darling, there's a very cold wind, though it looks so fine.You had better put on my Indian shawl; and it will look so pretty,too, on your grey gown--scarlet and grey; it's not everybody I wouldlend it to, but you're so careful."
&
nbsp; "Thank you," said Molly: and she left Mrs. Gibson in carelessuncertainty as to whether her offer would be accepted or not.
Lady Harriet was sorry to miss Molly, as she was fond of thegirl; but as she perfectly agreed with Mrs. Gibson's truism about"constancy" and "old friends," she saw no occasion for saying anymore about the affair, but sat down in a little low chair with herfeet on the fender. This said fender was made of bright, brightsteel, and was strictly tabooed to all household and plebeian feet;indeed the position, if they assumed it, was considered low-bred andvulgar.
"That's right, dear Lady Harriet! you can't think what a pleasure itis to me to welcome you at my own fireside, into my humble home."
"Humble! now, Clare, that's a little bit of nonsense, begging yourpardon. I don't call this pretty little drawing-room a bit of a'humble home.' It's as full of comforts, and of pretty things too, asany room of its size can be."
"Ah! how small you must feel it! even I had to reconcile myself to itat first."
"Well! perhaps your schoolroom was larger, but remember how bare itwas, how empty of anything but deal tables, and forms, and mats. Oh,indeed, Clare, I quite agree with mamma, who always says you havedone very well for yourself; and Mr. Gibson too! What an agreeable,well-informed man!"
"Yes, he is," said his wife, slowly, as if she did not like torelinquish her role of a victim to circumstances quite immediately."He is very agreeable, very; only we see so little of him; and ofcourse he comes home tired and hungry, and not inclined to talk tohis own family, and apt to go to sleep."
"Come, come!" said Lady Harriet, "I'm going to have my turn now.We've had the complaint of a doctor's wife, now hear the moans of apeer's daughter. Our house is so overrun with visitors! and literallyto-day I have come to you for a little solitude."
"Solitude!" exclaimed Mrs. Gibson. "Would you rather be alone?"slightly aggrieved.
"No, you dear silly woman; my solitude requires a listener, towhom I may say, 'How sweet is solitude!' But I am tired of theresponsibility of entertaining. Papa is so open-hearted, he asksevery friend he meets with to come and pay us a visit. Mamma isreally a great invalid, but she does not choose to give up herreputation for good health, having always considered illness a wantof self-control. So she gets wearied and worried by a crowd of peoplewho are all of them open-mouthed for amusement of some kind; justlike a brood of fledglings in a nest; so I have to be parent-bird,and pop morsels into their yellow leathery bills, to find themswallowed down before I can think of where to find the next. Oh, it's'entertaining' in the largest, literalist, dreariest sense of theword. So I have told a few lies this morning, and come off here forquietness and the comfort of complaining!"
Lady Harriet threw herself back in her chair, and yawned; Mrs. Gibsontook one of her ladyship's hands in a soft sympathizing manner, andmurmured,--
"Poor Lady Harriet!" and then she purred affectionately.
After a pause Lady Harriet started up and said--"I used to take youas my arbiter of morals when I was a little girl. Tell me, do youthink it wrong to tell lies?"
"Oh, my dear! how can you ask such questions?--of course it is verywrong,--very wicked indeed, I think I may say. But I know you wereonly joking when you said you had told lies."
"No, indeed, I wasn't. I told as plump fat lies as you would wishto hear. I said I 'was obliged to go into Hollingford on business,'when the truth was there was no obligation in the matter, only aninsupportable desire of being free from my visitors for an hour ortwo, and my only business was to come here, and yawn, and complain,and lounge at my leisure. I really think I'm unhappy at having told astory, as children express it."
"But, my dear Lady Harriet," said Mrs. Gibson, a little puzzled as tothe exact meaning of the words that were trembling on her tongue, "Iam sure you thought that you meant what you said, when you said it."
"No, I didn't," put in Lady Harriet.
"And besides, if you didn't, it was the fault of the tiresome peoplewho drove you into such straits--yes, it was certainly their fault,not yours--and then you know the conventions of society--ah, whattrammels they are!"
Lady Harriet was silent for a minute or two; then she said,--"Tellme, Clare; you've told lies sometimes, haven't you?"
"Lady Harriet! I think you might have known me better; but I know youdon't mean it, dear."
"Yes, I do. You must have told white lies, at any rate. How did youfeel after them?"
"I should have been miserable if I ever had. I should have died ofself-reproach. 'The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but thetruth,' has always seemed to me such a fine passage. But then I haveso much that is unbending in my nature, and in our sphere of lifethere are so few temptations. If we are humble, we are also simple,and unshackled by etiquette."
"Then you blame me very much? If somebody else will blame me, Isha'n't be so unhappy at what I said this morning."
"I am sure I never blamed you, not in my innermost heart, dear LadyHarriet. Blame you, indeed! That would be presumption in me."
"I think I shall set up a confessor! and it sha'n't be you, Clare,for you have always been only too indulgent to me."
After a pause she said,--"Can you give me some lunch, Clare? I don'tmean to go home till three. My 'business' will take me till then, asthe people at the Towers are duly informed."
"Certainly. I shall be delighted! but you know we are very simple inour habits."
"Oh, I only want a little bread-and-butter, and perhaps a slice ofcold meat--you must not give yourself any trouble, Clare--perhaps youdine now? let me sit down just like one of your family."
"Yes, you shall; I won't make any alteration--it will be so pleasantto have you sharing our family meal, dear Lady Harriet. But we dinelate, we only lunch now. How low the fire is getting; I really amforgetting everything in the pleasure of this tete-a-tete!"
So she rang twice; with great distinctness, and with a long pausebetween the rings. Maria brought in coals.
But the signal was as well understood by Cynthia as the "Hall ofApollo" was by the servants of Lucullus. The brace of partridges thatwere to have been for the late dinner were instantly put down to thefire; and the prettiest china brought out, and the table decked withflowers and fruit, arranged with all Cynthia's usual dexterity andtaste. So that when the meal was announced, and Lady Harriet enteredthe room, she could not but think her hostess's apologies had beenquite unnecessary; and be more and more convinced that Clare haddone very well for herself. Cynthia now joined the party, prettyand elegant as she always was; but somehow she did not take LadyHarriet's fancy; she only noticed her on account of her being hermother's daughter. Her presence made the conversation more general,and Lady Harriet gave out several pieces of news, none of them of anygreat importance to her, but as what had been talked about by thecircle of visitors assembled at the Towers.
"Lord Hollingford ought to have been with us," she said, amongstother things; "but he is obliged, or fancies himself obliged, whichis all the same thing, to stay in town about this Crichton legacy!"
"A legacy? To Lord Hollingford? I am so glad!"
"Don't be in a hurry to be glad! It's nothing for him but trouble.Didn't you hear of that rich eccentric Mr. Crichton, who diedsome time ago, and--fired by the example of Lord Bridgewater,I suppose--left a sum of money in the hands of trustees, ofwhom my brother is one, to send out a man with a thousand finequalifications, to make a scientific voyage, with a view to bringingback specimens of the fauna of distant lands, and so forming thenucleus of a museum which is to be called the Crichton Museum, and soperpetuate the founder's name. Such various forms does man's vanitytake! Sometimes it stimulates philanthropy; sometimes a love ofscience!"
"It seems to me a very laudable and useful object, I am sure," saidMrs. Gibson, safely.
"I daresay it is, taking it from the public-good view. But it'srather tiresome to us privately, for it keeps Hollingford in town--orbetween it and Cambridge--and each place as dull and empty as can be,just when we want him down at the Towers. The thing ought to
havebeen decided long ago, and there's some danger of the legacy lapsing.The two other trustees have run away to the Continent, feeling, asthey say, the utmost confidence in him, but in reality shirking theirresponsibilities. However, I believe he likes it, so I ought not togrumble. He thinks he is going to be very successful in the choice ofhis man--and he belongs to this county, too,--young Hamley of Hamley,if he can only get his college to let him go, for he is a Fellow ofTrinity, senior wrangler or something; and they're not so foolish asto send their crack man to be eaten up by lions and tigers!"
"It must be Roger Hamley!" exclaimed Cynthia, her eyes brightening,and her cheeks flushing.
"He's not the eldest son he can scarcely be called Hamley ofHamley!" said Mrs. Gibson.
"Hollingford's man is a Fellow of Trinity, as I said before."
"Then it is Mr. Roger Hamley," said Cynthia; "and he's up in Londonabout some business! What news for Molly when she comes home!"
"Why, what has Molly to do with it?" asked Lady Harriet. "Is--?" andshe looked into Mrs. Gibson's face for an answer. Mrs. Gibson inreply gave an intelligent and very expressive glance at Cynthia, whohowever did not perceive it.
"Oh, no! not at all,"--and Mrs. Gibson nodded a little at herdaughter, as much as to say, "If any one, that."
Lady Harriet began to look at the pretty Miss Kirkpatrick with freshinterest; her brother had spoken in such a manner of this youngMr. Hamley that every one connected with the phoenix was worthy ofobservation. Then, as if the mention of Molly's name had brought herafresh into her mind, Lady Harriet said,--"And where is Molly allthis time? I should like to see my little mentor. I hear she is verymuch grown since those days."
"Oh! when she once gets gossiping with the Miss Brownings, she neverknows when to come home," said Mrs. Gibson.
"The Miss Brownings? Oh! I'm so glad you named them! I'm very fond ofthem. Pecksy and Flapsy; I may call them so in Molly's absence. I'llgo and see them before I go home, and then perhaps I shall see mydear little Molly too. Do you know, Clare, I've quite taken a fancyto that girl!"
So Mrs. Gibson, after all her precautions, had to submit to LadyHarriet's leaving her half-an-hour earlier than she otherwise wouldhave done in order to "make herself common" (as Mrs. Gibson expressedit) by calling on the Miss Brownings.
But Molly had left before Lady Harriet arrived.
Molly went the long walk to the Holly Farm, to order the damsons,out of a kind of penitence. She had felt conscious of anger at beingsent out of the house by such a palpable manoeuvre as that whichher stepmother had employed. Of course she did not meet Cynthia, soshe went alone along the pretty lanes, with grassy sides and highhedge-banks not at all in the style of modern agriculture. At firstshe made herself uncomfortable with questioning herself as to howfar it was right to leave unnoticed the small domestic failings--thewebs, the distortions of truth which had prevailed in their householdever since her father's second marriage. She knew that very oftenshe longed to protest, but did not do it, from the desire of sparingher father any discord; and she saw by his face that he, too, wasoccasionally aware of certain things that gave him pain, as showingthat his wife's standard of conduct was not as high as he would haveliked. It was a wonder to Molly whether this silence was right orwrong. With a girl's want of toleration, and want of experience toteach her the force of circumstances, and of temptation, she hadoften been on the point of telling her stepmother some forcible hometruths. But, possibly, her father's example of silence, and oftensome piece of kindness on Mrs. Gibson's part (for after her way, andwhen in a good temper, she was very kind to Molly), made her hold hertongue.
That night at dinner, Mrs. Gibson recounted the conversation betweenherself and Lady Harriet, giving it a very strong individualcolouring, as was her wont, and telling nearly the whole of what hadpassed, although implying that there was a great deal said which wasso purely confidential, that she was bound in honour not to repeatit. Her three auditors listened to her without interrupting hermuch--indeed, without bestowing extreme attention on what she wassaying, until she came to the fact of Lord Hollingford's absence inLondon, and the reason for it.
"Roger Hamley going off on a scientific expedition!" exclaimed Mr.Gibson, suddenly awakened into vivacity.
"Yes. At least it is not settled finally; but as Lord Hollingfordis the only trustee who takes any interest--and being Lord Cumnor'sson--it is next to certain."
"I think I must have a voice in the matter," said Mr. Gibson and herelapsed into silence, keeping his ears open, however, henceforward.
"How long will he be away?" asked Cynthia. "We shall miss him sadly."
Molly's lips formed an acquiescing "yes" to this remark, but no soundwas heard. There was a buzzing in her ears as if the others weregoing on with the conversation, but the words they uttered seemedindistinct and blurred; they were merely conjectures, and did notinterfere with the one great piece of news. To the rest of the partyshe appeared to be eating her dinner as usual, and, if she weresilent, there was one listener the more to Mrs. Gibson's stream ofprattle, and Mr. Gibson's and Cynthia's remarks.
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