CHAPTER XLVII.
SCANDAL AND ITS VICTIMS.
When Mr. Gibson returned to Hollingford, he found an accumulation ofbusiness waiting for him, and he was much inclined to complain of theconsequences of the two days' comparative holiday, which had resultedin over-work for the week to come. He had hardly time to speak tohis family, he had so immediately to rush off to pressing cases ofillness. But Molly managed to arrest him in the hall, standing therewith his great coat held out ready for him to put on, but whisperingas she did so--
"Papa! Mr. Osborne Hamley was here to see you yesterday. He looksvery ill, and he's evidently frightened about himself."
Mr. Gibson faced about, and looked at her for a moment; but all hesaid was--
"I'll go and see him; don't tell your mother where I'm gone: you'venot mentioned this to her, I hope?"
"No," said Molly, for she had only told Mrs. Gibson of Osborne'scall, not of the occasion for it.
"Don't say anything about it; there's no need. Now I think of it, Ican't possibly go to-day,--but I will go."
Something in her father's manner disheartened Molly, who hadpersuaded herself that Osborne's evident illness was partly"nervous," by which she meant imaginary. She had dwelt upon his looksof enjoyment at Miss Phoebe's perplexity, and thought that no onereally believing himself to be in danger could have given the merryglances which he had done; but after seeing the seriousness of herfather's face, she recurred to the shock she had experienced on firstseeing Osborne's changed appearance. All this time Mrs. Gibson wasbusy reading a letter from Cynthia which Mr. Gibson had brought fromLondon for every opportunity of private conveyance was seized uponwhen postage was so high; and Cynthia had forgotten so many things inher hurried packing, that she now sent a list of the clothes whichshe required. Molly almost wondered that it had not come to her;but she did not understand the sort of reserve that was springingup in Cynthia's mind towards her. Cynthia herself struggled withthe feeling, and tried to fight against it by calling herself"ungrateful;" but the truth was, she believed that she no longer heldher former high place in Molly's estimation and she could not helpturning away from one who knew things to her discredit. She was fullyaware of Molly's prompt decision and willing action, where actionwas especially disagreeable, on her behalf; she knew that Mollywould never bring up the past errors and difficulties; but still theconsciousness that the good, straightforward girl had learnt thatCynthia had been guilty of so much underhand work cooled her regard,and restrained her willingness of intercourse. Reproach herself withingratitude as she would, she could not help feeling glad to beaway from Molly; it was awkward to speak to her as if nothing hadhappened; it was awkward to write to her about forgotten ribbonsand laces, when their last conversation had been on such differentsubjects, and had called out such vehement expressions of feeling.So Mrs. Gibson held the list in her hand, and read out the smallfragments of news that were intermixed with notices of Cynthia'srequirements.
"Helen cannot be so very ill," said Molly at length, "or Cynthiawould not want her pink muslin and daisy wreath."
"I don't see that that follows, I'm sure," replied Mrs. Gibson rathersharply. "Helen would never be so selfish as to tie Cynthia to herside, however ill she was. Indeed, I should not have felt that itwas my duty to let Cynthia go to London at all, if I had thoughtshe was to be perpetually exposed to the depressing atmosphere ofa sick-room. Besides, it must be so good for Helen to have Cynthiacoming in with bright pleasant accounts of the parties she has beento--even if Cynthia disliked gaiety I should desire her to sacrificeherself and go out as much as she could, for Helen's sake. My ideaof nursing is that one should not be always thinking of one's ownfeelings and wishes, but doing those things which will most serve tobeguile the weary hours of an invalid. But then so few people havehad to consider the subject so deeply as I have done!"
Mrs. Gibson here thought fit to sigh before going on with Cynthia'sletter. As far as Molly could make any sense out of this ratherincoherent epistle, very incoherently read aloud to her, Cynthia wasreally pleased, and glad to be of use and comfort to Helen, but atthe same time very ready to be easily persuaded into the perpetualsmall gaieties which abounded in her uncle's house in London, even atthis dead season of the year. Mrs. Gibson came upon Mr. Henderson'sname once, and then went on with a running "um-um-um" to herself,which sounded very mysterious, but which might as well have beenomitted, as all that Cynthia really said about him was, "Mr.Henderson's mother has advised my aunt to consult a certain Dr.Donaldson, who is said to be very clever in such cases as Helen's,but my uncle is not sufficiently sure of the professional etiquette,&c." Then there came a very affectionate, carefully worded message toMolly,--implying a good deal more than was said of loving gratitudefor the trouble she had taken on Cynthia's behalf. And that was all;and Molly went away a little depressed; she knew not why.
The operation on Lady Cumnor had been successfully performed, and ina few days they hoped to bring her down to the Towers to recruit herstrength in the fresh country air. The case was one which interestedMr. Gibson extremely, and in which his opinion had been proved tobe right, in opposition to that of one or two great names in London.The consequence was that he was frequently consulted and referred toduring the progress of her recovery; and, as he had much to do in theimmediate circle of his Hollingford practice, as well as to writethoughtful letters to his medical brethren in London, he found itdifficult to spare the three or four hours necessary to go over toHamley to see Osborne. He wrote to him, however, begging him to replyimmediately and detail his symptoms; and from the answer he receivedhe did not imagine that the case was immediately pressing. Osborne,too, deprecated his coming over to Hamley for the express purposeof seeing him. So the visit was deferred to that "more convenientseason" which is so often too late.
All these days the buzzing gossip about Molly's meetings with Mr.Preston, her clandestine correspondence, the secret interviews inlonely places, had been gathering strength, and assuming the positiveform of scandal. The simple innocent girl, who walked through thequiet streets without a thought of being the object of mysteriousimplications, became for a time the unconscious black sheep of thetown. Servants heard part of what was said in their mistresses'drawing-rooms, and exaggerated the sayings amongst themselves withthe coarse strengthening of expression common with uneducated people.Mr. Preston himself became aware that her name was being coupled withhis, though hardly to the extent to which the love of excitement andgossip had carried people's speeches; he chuckled over the mistake,but took no pains to correct it. "It serves her right," said he tohimself, "for meddling with other folk's business," and he felthimself avenged for the discomfiture which her menace of appealing toLady Harriet had caused him, and the mortification he had experiencedin learning from her plain-speaking lips, how he had been talkedover by Cynthia and herself, with personal dislike on the one side,and evident contempt on the other. Besides, if any denial of Mr.Preston's stirred up an examination as to the real truth, more mightcome out of his baffled endeavours to compel Cynthia to keep to herengagement to him than he cared to have known. He was angry withhimself for still loving Cynthia; loving her in his own fashion, beit understood. He told himself that many a woman of more position andwealth would be glad enough to have him; some of them pretty womentoo. And he asked himself why he was such a confounded fool as to goon hankering after a penniless girl, who was as fickle as the wind?The answer was silly enough, logically; but forcible in fact. Cynthiawas Cynthia, and not Venus herself could have been her substitute.In this one thing Mr. Preston was more really true than many worthymen; who, seeking to be married, turn with careless facility from theunattainable to the attainable, and keep their feelings and fancytolerably loose till they find a woman who consents to be their wife.But no one would ever be to Mr. Preston what Cynthia had been, andwas; and yet he could have stabbed her in certain of his moods. So,Molly, who had come between him and the object of his desire, was notlikely to find favour in his sight, or to obtain friendly action
sfrom him.
There came a time--not very distant from the evening at Mrs.Dawes'--when Molly felt that people looked askance at her. Mrs.Goodenough openly pulled her grand-daughter away, when the young girlstopped to speak to Molly in the street, and an engagement whichthe two had made for a long walk together was cut very short by avery trumpery excuse. Mrs. Goodenough explained her conduct in thefollowing manner to some of her friends:--
"You see, I don't think the worse of a girl for meeting hersweetheart here and there and everywhere, till she gets talked about;but then when she does--and Molly Gibson's name is in everybody'smouth--I think it's only fair to Bessy, who has trusted me withAnnabella--not to let her daughter be seen with a lass who hasmanaged her matters so badly as to set folk talking about her. Mymaxim is this,--and it's a very good working one, you may dependon't--women should mind what they're about, and never be talked of;and if a woman's talked of, the less her friends have to do with hertill the talk has died away, the better. So Annabella is not to haveanything to do with Molly Gibson, this visit at any rate."
For a good while the Miss Brownings were kept in ignorance of theevil tongues that whispered hard words about Molly. Miss Browningwas known to "have a temper," and by instinct every one who came incontact with her shrank from irritating that temper by uttering theslightest syllable against the smallest of those creatures over whomshe spread the aegis of her love. She would and did reproach themherself; she used to boast that she never spared them: but no oneelse might touch them with the slightest slur of a passing word. ButMiss Phoebe inspired no such terror; the great reason why she didnot hear of the gossip against Molly as early as any one, was that,although she was not the rose, she lived near the rose. Besides, shewas of so tender a nature that even thick-skinned Mrs. Goodenough wasunwilling to say what would give Miss Phoebe pain; and it was thenew-comer Mrs. Dawes, who in all ignorance alluded to the town'stalk, as to something of which Miss Phoebe must be aware. Then MissPhoebe poured down her questions, although she protested, even withtears, her total disbelief in all the answers she received. It wasa small act of heroism on her part to keep all that she then learnta secret from her sister Dorothy, as she did for four or five days;till Miss Browning attacked her one evening with the followingspeech:--
"Phoebe! either you've some reason for puffing yourself out withsighs, or you've not. If you have a reason, it's your duty to tell itme directly; and if you haven't a reason, you must break yourself ofa bad habit that is growing upon you."
"Oh, sister! do you think it is really my duty to tell you? it wouldbe such a comfort; but then I thought I ought not; it will distressyou so."
"Nonsense. I am so well prepared for misfortune by the frequentcontemplation of its possibility that I believe I can receive any illnews with apparent equanimity and real resignation. Besides, when yousaid yesterday at breakfast-time that you meant to give up the dayto making your drawers tidy, I was aware that some misfortune wasimpending, though of course I could not judge of its magnitude. Isthe Highchester Bank broken?"
"Oh no, sister!" said Miss Phoebe, moving to a seat close to hersister's on the sofa. "Have you really been thinking that! I wish Ihad told you what I heard at the very first, if you've been fancyingthat!"
"Take warning, Phoebe, and learn to have no concealments from me. Idid think we must be ruined, from your ways of going on: eating nomeat at dinner, and sighing continually. And now what is it?"
"I hardly know how to tell you, Dorothy. I really don't."
Miss Phoebe began to cry; Miss Browning took hold of her arm, andgave her a little sharp shake.
"Cry as much as you like when you've told me; but don't cry now,child, when you're keeping me on the tenter-hooks."
"Molly Gibson has lost her character, sister. That's it."
"Molly Gibson has done no such thing!" said Miss Browningindignantly. "How dare you repeat such stories about poor Mary'schild? Never let me hear you say such things again."
"I can't help it. Mrs. Dawes told me; and she says it's all over thetown. I told her I did not believe a word of it. And I kept it fromyou; and I think I should have been really ill if I'd kept it tomyself any longer. Oh, sister! what are you going to do?"
For Miss Browning had risen without speaking a word, and was leavingthe room in a stately and determined fashion.
"I'm going to put on my bonnet and things, and then I shall call uponMrs. Dawes, and confront her with her lies."
"Oh, don't call them lies, sister; it's such a strong, ugly word.Please call them tallydiddles, for I don't believe she meant anyharm. Besides--besides--if they should turn out to be truth? Really,sister, that's the weight on my mind; so many things sounded as ifthey might be true."
"What things?" said Miss Browning, still standing with judicialerectness of position in the middle of the floor.
"Why--one story was that Molly had given him a letter."
"Who's him? How am I to understand a story told in that silly way?"Miss Browning sat down on the nearest chair, and made up her mind tobe patient if she could.
"Him is Mr. Preston. And that must be true; because I missed herfrom my side when I wanted to ask her if she thought blue would lookgreen by candlelight, as the young man said it would, and she had runacross the street, and Mrs. Goodenough was just going into the shop,just as she said she was."
Miss Browning's distress was overcoming her anger; so she only said,"Phoebe, I think you'll drive me mad. Do tell me what you heardfrom Mrs. Dawes in a sensible and coherent manner, for once in yourlife."
"I'm sure I'm trying with all my might to tell you everything just asit happened."
"What did you hear from Mrs. Dawes?"
"Why, that Molly and Mr. Preston were keeping company just as if shewas a maid-servant and he was a gardener: meeting at all sorts ofimproper times and places, and fainting away in his arms, and out atnight together, and writing to each other, and slipping their lettersinto each other's hands; and that was what I was talking about,sister, for I next door to saw that done once. I saw her with my owneyes run across the street to Grinstead's, where he was, for we hadjust left him there; with a letter in her hand, too, which was notthere when she came back all fluttered and blushing. But I neverthought anything of it at the time; but now all the town is talkingabout it, and crying shame, and saying they ought to be married."Miss Phoebe sank into sobbing again; but was suddenly roused by agood box on her ear. Miss Browning was standing over her almosttrembling with passion.
"Phoebe, if ever I hear you say such things again, I'll turn youout of the house that minute."
"I only said what Mrs. Dawes said, and you asked me what it was,"replied Miss Phoebe, humbly and meekly. "Dorothy, you should nothave done that."
"Never mind whether I should or I shouldn't. That's not the matterin hand. What I've got to decide is, how to put a stop to all theselies."
"But, Dorothy, they are not all lies--if you will call them so; I'mafraid some things are true; though I stuck to their being false whenMrs. Dawes told me of them."
"If I go to Mrs. Dawes, and she repeats them to me, I shall slap herface or box her ears I'm afraid, for I couldn't stand tales beingtold of poor Mary's daughter, as if they were just a stirring pieceof news like James Horrocks' pig with two heads," said Miss Browning,meditating aloud. "That would do harm instead of good. Phoebe, I'mreally sorry I boxed your ears, only I should do it again if you saidthe same things." Phoebe sate down by her sister, and took hold ofone of her withered hands, and began caressing it, which was her wayof accepting her sister's expression of regret. "If I speak to Molly,the child will deny it, if she's half as good-for-nothing as theysay; and if she's not, she'll only worry herself to death. No, thatwon't do. Mrs. Goodenough--but she's a donkey; and if I convincedher, she could never convince any one else. No; Mrs. Dawes, who toldyou, shall tell me, and I'll tie my hands together inside my muff,and bind myself over to keep the peace. And when I've heard what isto be heard, I'll put the matter into Mr. Gibson's hands. That's whatI'll do. S
o it's no use your saying anything against it, Phoebe,for I shan't attend to you."
Miss Browning went to Mrs. Dawes' and began civilly enough to makeinquiries concerning the reports current in Hollingford about Mollyand Mr. Preston and Mrs. Dawes fell into the snare, and told all thereal and fictitious circumstances of the story in circulation, quiteunaware of the storm that was gathering and ready to fall upon heras soon as she stopped speaking. But she had not the long habit ofreverence for Miss Browning which would have kept so many Hollingfordladies from justifying themselves if she found fault. Mrs. Dawesstood up for herself and her own veracity, bringing out freshscandal, which she said she did not believe, but that many did; andadducing so much evidence as to the truth of what she had said anddid believe, that Miss Browning was almost quelled, and sate silentand miserable at the end of Mrs. Dawes' justification of herself.
"Well!" she said at length, rising up from her chair as she spoke,"I'm very sorry I've lived till this day; it's a blow to me just asif I had heard of such goings-on in my own flesh and blood. I supposeI ought to apologize to you, Mrs. Dawes, for what I said; but I'veno heart to do it to-day. I ought not to have spoken as I did; butthat's nothing to this affair, you see."
"I hope you do me the justice to perceive that I only repeated whatI had heard on good authority, Miss Browning," said Mrs. Dawes inreply.
"My dear, don't repeat evil on any authority unless you can do somegood by speaking about it," said Miss Browning, laying her hand onMrs. Dawes' shoulder. "I'm not a good woman, but I know what is good,and that advice is. And now I think I can tell you that I beg yourpardon for flying out upon you so; but God knows what pain you wereputting me to. You'll forgive me, won't you, my dear?" Mrs. Dawesfelt the hand trembling on her shoulder, and saw the real distress ofMiss Browning's mind, so it was not difficult for her to grant therequested forgiveness. Then Miss Browning went home, and said but afew words to Phoebe, who indeed saw well enough that her sister hadheard the reports confirmed, and needed no further explanation ofthe cause of scarcely-tasted dinner, and short replies, and saddenedlooks. Presently Miss Browning sate down and wrote a short note. Thenshe rang the bell, and told the little maiden who answered it totake it to Mr. Gibson, and if he was out to see that it was givento him as soon as ever he came home. And then she went and put onher Sunday cap; and Miss Phoebe knew that her sister had writtento ask Mr. Gibson to come and be told of the rumours affecting hisdaughter. Miss Browning was sadly disturbed at the information shehad received, and the task that lay before her; she was miserablyuncomfortable to herself and irritable to Miss Phoebe, and thenetting-cotton she was using kept continually snapping and breakingfrom the jerks of her nervous hands. When the knock at the door washeard,--the well-known doctor's knock,--Miss Browning took off herspectacles, and dropped them on the carpet, breaking them as shedid so; and then she bade Miss Phoebe leave the room, as if herpresence had cast the evil-eye, and caused the misfortune. She wantedto look natural, and was distressed at forgetting whether she usuallyreceived him sitting or standing.
"Well!" said he, coming in cheerfully, and rubbing his cold hands ashe went straight to the fire, "and what is the matter with us? It'sPhoebe, I suppose? I hope none of those old spasms? But, after all,a dose or two will set that to rights."
"Oh! Mr. Gibson, I wish it was Phoebe, or me either!" said MissBrowning, trembling more and more.
He sate down by her patiently, when he saw her agitation, and tookher hand in a kind, friendly manner.
"Don't hurry yourself,--take your time. I daresay it's not so bad asyou fancy; but we'll see about it. There's a great deal of help inthe world, much as we abuse it."
"Mr. Gibson," said she, "it's your Molly I'm so grieved about. It'sout now, and God help us both, and the poor child too, for I'm sureshe's been led astray, and not gone wrong by her own free will!"
"Molly!" said he, fighting against her words. "What's my little Mollybeen doing or saying?"
"Oh! Mr. Gibson, I don't know how to tell you. I never would havenamed it, if I had not been convinced, sorely, sorely against mywill."
"At any rate, you can let me hear what you've heard," said he,putting his elbow on the table, and screening his eyes with his hand."Not that I'm a bit afraid of anything you can hear about my girl,"continued he. "Only in this little nest of gossip, it's as well toknow what people are talking about."
"They say--oh! how shall I tell you?"
"Go on, can't you?" said he, removing his hand from his blazing eyes."I'm not going to believe it, so don't be afraid!"
"But I fear you must believe it. I would not if I could help it.She's been carrying on a clandestine correspondence with Mr.Preston!--"
"Mr. Preston!" exclaimed he.
"And meeting him at all sorts of unseemly places and hours, out ofdoors,--in the dark,--fainting away in his--his arms, if I must speakout. All the town is talking of it." Mr. Gibson's hand was over hiseyes again, and he made no sign; so Miss Browning went on, addingtouch to touch. "Mr. Sheepshanks saw them together. They haveexchanged notes in Grinstead's shop; she ran after him there."
"Be quiet, can't you?" said Mr. Gibson, taking his hand away, andshowing his grim set face. "I've heard enough. Don't go on. I saidI shouldn't believe it, and I don't. I suppose I must thank you fortelling me; but I can't yet."
"I don't want your thanks," said Miss Browning, almost crying. "Ithought you ought to know; for though you're married again, I can'tforget you were dear Mary's husband once upon a time; and Molly's herchild."
"I'd rather not speak any more about it just at present," said he,not at all replying to Miss Browning's last speech. "I may notcontrol myself as I ought. I only wish I could meet Preston, andhorsewhip him within an inch of his life. I wish I'd the doctoringof these slanderous gossips. I'd make their tongues lie still for awhile. My little girl! What harm has she done them all, that theyshould go and foul her fair name?"
"Indeed, Mr. Gibson, I'm afraid it's all true. I would not have sentfor you if I hadn't examined into it. Do ascertain the truth beforeyou do anything violent, such as horsewhipping or poisoning."
With all the _inconsequence_ of a man in a passion, Mr. Gibsonlaughed out, "What have I said about horsewhipping or poisoning?Do you think I'd have Molly's name dragged about the streets inconnection with any act of violence on my part? Let the report dieaway as it arose. Time will prove its falsehood."
"But I don't think it will, and that's the pity of it," said MissBrowning. "You must do something, but I don't know what."
"I shall go home and ask Molly herself what's the meaning of it all;that's all I shall do. It's too ridiculous--knowing Molly as I do,it's perfectly ridiculous." He got up and walked about the roomwith hasty steps, laughing short unnatural laughs from time to time."Really what will they say next? 'Satan finds some mischief still foridle tongues to do.'"
"Don't talk of Satan, please, in this house. No one knows what mayhappen, if he's lightly spoken about," pleaded Miss Browning.
He went on, without noticing her, talking to himself,--"I've a greatmind to leave the place;--and what food for scandal that pieceof folly would give rise to!" Then he was silent for a time; hishands in his pockets, his eyes on the ground, as he continued hisquarter-deck march. Suddenly he stopped close to Miss Browning'schair: "I'm thoroughly ungrateful to you, for as true a mark offriendship as you've ever shown to me. True or false, it was rightI should know the wretched scandal that was being circulated; and itcouldn't have been pleasant for you to tell it me. Thank you from thebottom of my heart."
"Indeed, Mr. Gibson, if it was false I would never have named it, butlet it die away."
"It's not true, though!" said he, doggedly, letting drop the hand hehad taken in his effusion of gratitude.
She shook her head. "I shall always love Molly for her mother'ssake," she said. And it was a great concession from the correct MissBrowning. But her father did not understand it as such.
"You ought to love her for her own. She has done nothing to disgracehe
rself. I shall go straight home, and probe into the truth."
"As if the poor girl who has been led away into deceit already wouldscruple much at going on in falsehood," was Miss Browning's remark onthis last speech of Mr. Gibson's; but she had discretion enough notto make it until he was well out of hearing.
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