MR. GIBSON'S NEIGHBOURS.
Illustrationolly up among these people in of life, without any event than that which has been recorded—the being left at the Towers—until she was nearly seventeen. She had a visitor at the school, but she had gone again to the at the great house; it was easy to some for away, and the of that day was not a one on the whole, though she often how much she should like to see the gardens again.
Lady Agnes was married; there was only Lady Harriet at home; Lord Hollingford, the son, had his wife, and was a good more at the Towers since he had a widower. He was a tall man, to be as proud as his mother, the countess; but, in fact, he was only shy, and slow at making speeches. He did not know what to say to people daily and were not the same as his; he would have been very for a of small-talk, and would have learnt off his with good-humoured diligence. He often the of his father, who in talking to everybody, and was perfectly of the of his conversation. But, to his and shyness, Lord Hollingford was not a popular man although his of was very great, his of extreme, and his scientific to him to much in the European of learned men. In this respect Hollingford was proud of him. The that the great, grave, to its was for his wisdom; and that he had one or two discoveries, though in what direction they were not sure. But it was safe to point him out to visiting the little town, as "That's Lord Hollingford—the famous Lord Hollingford, you know; you must have of him, he is so scientific." If the his name, they also his to fame; if they did not, ten to one but they would make as if they did, and so not only their own ignorance, but that of their companions, as to the exact nature of the of his reputation.
He was left a with two or three boys. They were at a public school; so that their make the house in which he had passed his married life but little of a home to him, and he much of his time at the Towers; where his mother was proud of him, and his father very fond, but so little of him. His friends were always by Lord and Lady Cumnor; the former, indeed, was in the of everywhere; but it was a proof of Lady Cumnor's for her son, that she allowed him to ask what she called "all of people" to the Towers. "All of people" meant those who were for science and learning, without to rank: and it must be confessed, without much to manners likewise.
Mr. Hall, Mr. Gibson's predecessor, had always been with by my lady, who had him as the family medical man, when she came to the Towers on her marriage; but she of with his of taking his meals, if he needed refreshment, in the housekeeper's room, not with the housekeeper, entendu. The comfortable, clever, stout, and red-faced doctor would very much have this, if he had had the choice him (which he had) of taking his "snack," as he called it, with my lord and my lady, in the dining-room. Of course, if some great gun (like Sir Astley) was from London to on the family's health, it was to him, as well as to the local medical attendant, to ask Mr. Hall to dinner, in a and manner, on which occasions Mr. Hall his in of white muslin, put on his black knee-breeches, with of at the sides, his and shoes, and otherwise himself in his attire, and in in a post-chaise from the "George," himself in the private of his for the he was with the idea of how well it would the next day in the ears of the he was in the of attending: "Yesterday at dinner the said," or "the remarked," or "I was to when I was at the Towers yesterday." But somehow had since Mr. Gibson had "the doctor" at Hollingford. Miss Brownings that it was he had such an figure, and "such a manner;" Mrs. Goodenough, "because of his connections"—"the son of a Scotch duke, my dear, mind on which of the blanket." But the was certain; although he might ask Mrs. Brown to give him something to eat in the housekeeper's room—he had no time for all the and of with my lady—he was always welcome to the circle of visitors in the house. He might with a any day that he chose; that a was at the Towers. His was Scotch, not provincial. He had not an of on his bones; and goes a great way to gentility. His was sallow, and his black; in those days, the decade after the of the great war, to be and black-a-vised was of itself a distinction; he was not (as my lord with a sigh, but it was my lady who the invitations), of his words, intelligent, and sarcastic. Therefore he was perfectly presentable.
His Scotch blood (for that he was of Scottish there be no manner of doubt) gave him just the of which every one that they must him with respect; so on that he was assured. The of being an guest to dinner at the Towers from time to time, gave him but little for many years, but it was a to be gone through in the way of his profession, without any idea of social gratification.
But when Lord Hollingford returned to make the Towers his home, were altered. Mr. Gibson and learnt that him seriously, and that gave fresh to his reading. From time to time he met the of the scientific world; odd-looking, simple-hearted men, very much in about their own particular subjects, and not having much to say on any other. Mr. Gibson himself of such persons, and also that they valued his appreciation, as it was and given. Indeed, by-and-by, he to send of his own to the more scientific of the medical journals, and thus in receiving, in out and thought, a new was added to his life. There was not much Lord Hollingford and himself; the one was too and shy, the other too busy, to each other's with the to do away with the social of rank that their meetings. But each was pleased to come into with the other. Each on the other's respect and with a security unknown to many who call themselves friends; and this was a of to both; to Mr. Gibson the most so, of course; for his range of and was the smaller. Indeed, there was no one equal to himself among the men with he associated, and this he had as a influence, although he the of his depression. There was Mr. Ashton, the vicar, who had succeeded Mr. Browning, a good and kind-hearted man, but one without an original in him; and mind him to agree to every opinion, not heterodox, and to in the most manner. Mr. Gibson had once or twice himself, by leading the on in his of "as perfectly convincing," and of as "curious but undoubted," till he had planted the in a of bewilderment. But then Mr. Ashton's pain and at out into what a he had been brought, his self-reproach at his previous admissions, were so great that Mr. Gibson all of fun, and to the Thirty-nine Articles with all the good-will in life, as the only means of the vicar's conscience. On any other subject, that of orthodoxy, Mr. Gibson lead him any lengths; but then his on most of them from at any results which him. He had some private fortune, and was not married, and the life of an and bachelor; but though he himself was no very active visitor among his parishioners, he was always to their wants in the most liberal, and, his habits, occasionally in the most self-denying manner, Mr. Gibson, or any one else, them to him. "Use my as as if it was your own, Gibson," he was to say. "I'm such a one at going about and making talk to folk—I I don't do in that way—but I am most to give you anything for any one you may in want."
"Thank you; I come upon you often, I believe, and make very little about it; but if you'll allow me to suggest, it is, that you shouldn't try to make talk when you go into the cottages; but just talk."
"I don't see the difference," said the vicar, a little querulously; "but I there is a difference, and I have no what you say is true. I shouldn't make talk, but talk; and as are difficult to me, you must let me purchase the of by this ten-pound note."
"Thank you. It's not so satisfactory to me; and, I should think, not to yourself. But the Joneses and Greens will it."
Mr. Ashton would look with into Mr. Gibson's after some such speech, as if if a was intended. On the whole, they on in the most way; only the common to most men, they had very little in each other's society. Perhaps the man of all others to Mr. Gibson took the most kindly—at least, until Lord Hollingford came into the neighbourhood—was a Squire Hamley. He and his had been called as long as local extended. But there was many a land-owner in the county, for Squire Hamley's was not more than eight hundred or so. But his family had been in of it long the Earls of Cumnor had been of; the Hely-Harrisons had Coldstone Park; no one in Hollingford the time when the Hamleys had not at Hamley. "Ever since the Heptarchy," said the vicar. "Nay," said Miss Browning, "I have that there were Hamleys of Hamley the Romans." The was preparing a assent, when Mrs. Goodenough came in with a still more assertion. "I have always heerd," said she, with all the slow authority of an inhabitant, "that there was Hamleys of Hamley the time of the pagans." Mr. Ashton only bow, and say, "Possibly, very possibly, madam." But he said it in so a manner that Mrs. Goodenough looked in a way, as much as to say, "The Church my words; who now will them?" At any rate, the Hamleys were a very old family, if not aborigines. They had not their for centuries; they had their own, if with an effort, and had not a of it for the last hundred years or so. But they were not an race. They traded, or speculated, or of any kind. They had no in any bank; what would have been more in character, of gold in any stocking. Their mode of life was simple, and more like that of than squires. Indeed Squire Hamley, by the manners and of his forefathers, the of the eighteenth century, did live more as a yeoman, when such a class existed, than as a of this generation. There was a in this that him an amount of respect from high and low; and he might have visited at every house in the had he so chosen. But he was very to the of society; and this was to the that the squire, Roger Hamley, who at present and at Hamley, had not so good an education as he ought to have done. His father, Squire Stephen, had been at Oxford, and, with pride, he had to go up again. Nay, more! he had a great oath, as men did in those days, that none of his children to come should know either by a of it. He had only one child, the present Squire, and he was up according to his father's word; he was sent to a school, where he saw much that he hated, and then upon the as its heir. Such a up did not do him all the that might have been anticipated. He was educated, and on many points; but he was aware of his deficiency, and it in theory. He was and in society, and so out of it as much as possible; and he was obstinate, violent-tempered, and in his own circle. On the other side, he was generous, and true as steel; the very of honour, in fact. He had so much natural shrewdness, that his was always to, although he was to start by false premises, which he as as if they had been proved; but, the of his premises, nobody more natural and to upon the upon them.
He had married a London lady; it was one of those marriages of which one cannot the reasons. Yet they were very happy, though possibly Mrs. Hamley would not have into the condition of a invalid, if her husband had a little more for her tastes, or allowed her the of those who did. After his marriage he was to say he had got all that was having out of the of houses they called London. It was a to his wife which he until the year of her death; it her at first, it pleased her up to the last time of her it; but, for all that, she used sometimes to wish that he would the that there might still be something and in the great city. But he there again, and though he did not her going, yet he so little with her when she came full of what she had done on her visit that she to go. Not but what he was and in his consent, and in her with money. "There, there, my little woman, take that! Dress up as as any on 'em, and what you like, for the of Hamley of Hamley; and go to the park and the play, and off with the best on 'em. I shall be to see again, I know; but have while thou'rt about it." Then when she came it was, "Well, well, it has pleased thee, I suppose, so that's all right. But the very talking about it me, I know, and I can't think how you have it all. Come out and see how the flowers are looking in the south garden. I've them all the you like; and I over to Hollingford to the of the plants you last year. A of fresh air will clear my brain after to all this talk about the of London, which is like to have me giddy."
Mrs. Hamley was a great reader, and had taste. She was and sentimental; and good. She gave up her visits to London; she gave up her in the company of her in education and position. Her husband, to the of his early years, with those to he ought to have been an equal; he was too proud to with his inferiors. He loved his wife all the more for her for him; but, of all her interests, she into ill-health; nothing definite; only she was well. Perhaps if she had had a it would have been for her: but her two children were boys, and their father, to give them the of which he himself had the deprivation, sent the very early to a school. They were to go on to Rugby and Cambridge; the idea of Oxford was in the Hamley family. Osborne, the eldest—so called after his mother's name—was full of taste, and had some talent. His had all the and of his mother's. He was sweet-tempered and affectionate, almost as as a girl. He did well at school, away many prizes; and was, in a word, the and of father and mother; the friend of the latter, in of any other. Roger was two years than Osborne; and built, like his father; his was square, and the grave, and immobile. He was good, but dull, his said. He no prizes, but home a report of his conduct. When he his mother, she used laughingly to to the of the lap-dog and the donkey; so he left off all personal of affection. It was a great question as to he was to his to college after he left Rugby. Mrs. Hamley it would be a away of money, as he was so little likely to himself in pursuits; anything practical—such as a engineer—would be more the of life for him. She that it would be too for him to go to the same college and as his brother, who was sure to himself—and, to be plucked, to come away wooden-spoon at last. But his father doggedly, as was his wont, in his of his sons the same education; they should have the of which he had been deprived. If Roger did not do well at Cambridge it would be his own fault. If his father did not send him thither, some day or other he might be the omission, as the Squire had done himself for many a year. So Roger his Osborne to Trinity, and Mrs. Hamley was again left alone, after the year of as to Roger's destination, which had been on by her urgency. She had not been able for many years to walk her garden; the part of her life was on a sofa, to the window in summer, to the in winter. The room which she was large and pleasant; four tall looked out upon a lawn over with flower-beds, and melting away into a small wood, in the centre of which there was a pond, with water-lilies. About this in the Mrs. Hamley had many a four-versed since she on her sofa, alternately reading and verse. She had a small table by her on which there were the of and fiction; a pencil and blotting-book, with of blank paper; a of flowers always of her husband's gathering; winter and summer, she had a sweet fresh every day. Her her a of medicine every three hours, with a of clear water and a biscuit; her husband came to her as often as his love for the open air and his out-of-doors permitted; but the event of her day, when her boys were absent, was Mr. Gibson's professional visits.
He there was going on all this time that people spoke of her as a invalid; and that one or two him of her fancies. But he only at such accusations. He that his visits were a and of her and discomfort; he that Squire Hamley would have been only too if he had come every day; and he was that by of her he might her pain. Besides all these reasons, he took great in the Squire's society. Mr. Gibson the other's unreasonableness; his quaintness; his in religion, politics, and morals. Mrs. Hamley sometimes to for, or to away, opinions which she were to the doctor, or which she too abrupt; but at such times her husband would his great hand almost on Mr. Gibson's shoulder, and his wife's anxiety, by saying, "Let us alone, little woman. We each other, don't we, doctor? Why, your life, he me than he many a time; only, you see, he it over, and says a thing, and it's all and humility; but I can tell when he's me a pill."
One of Mrs. Hamley's often-expressed had been, that Molly might come and pay her a visit. Mr. Gibson always this of hers, though he have his for these refusals. He did not want to the of his child, in fact; but he put it to himself in a different way. He her lessons and her regular of would be interrupted. The life in Mrs. Hamley's and room would not be good for the girl; Osborne and Roger Hamley would be at home, and he did not wish Molly to be too upon them for society; or they would not be at home, and it would be and for his girl to be all the day long with a invalid.
But at length the day came when Mr. Gibson over, and a visit from Molly; an offer which Mrs. Hamley with the "open arms of her heart," as she it; and of which the was unspecified.
The for the in Mr. Gibson's just to was as follows:—It has been mentioned that he took pupils, against his inclination, it is true; but there they were, a Mr. Wynne and Mr. Coxe, "the gentlemen," as they were called in the household; "Mr. Gibson's gentlemen," as they were in the town. Mr. Wynne was the elder, the more one, who occasionally take his master's place, and who by visiting the poor, and the "chronic cases." Mr. Gibson used to talk over his with Mr. Wynne, and try and his opinions in the that, some day or another, Mr. Wynne might start an original thought. The man was and slow; he would do any by his rashness, but at the same time he would always be a little his day. Still Mr. Gibson that he had had "young gentlemen" to with; and was with, if not for, such an as Mr. Wynne. Mr. Coxe was a boy of or so, with red hair, and a red face, of of which he was very and much ashamed. He was the son of an Indian officer, an old of Mr. Gibson's. Major Coxe was at some station in the Punjaub, at the present time; but the year he had been in England, and had his great at having his only child as a to his old friend, and had in almost Mr. Gibson with the as well as the of his boy, him many which he were special in this case; but which Mr. Gibson with a touch of the major were always to in every case, with every pupil. But when the major to that his boy might be as one of the family, and that he might his in the drawing-room of the surgery, Mr. Gibson upon him with a direct refusal.
"He must live like the others. I can't have the and into the drawing-room, and the place of aloes."
"Must my boy make pills himself, then?" asked the major, ruefully.
"To be sure. The always does. It's not hard work. He'll have the of he won't have to them himself. And he'll have the of the cakes, and the of hips, and on Sundays he shall have a taste of to him for his at pill-making."
Major Coxe was not sure Mr. Gibson was not laughing at him in his sleeve; but were so arranged, and the were so great, that he it was best to take no notice, but to submit to the of pill-making. He was for all these by Mr. Gibson's manner at last when the moment of final arrived. The doctor did not say much; but there was something of in his manner that spoke to the father's heart, and an "you have me with your boy, and I have the trust in full," in each of the last words.
Mr. Gibson his and nature too well to Coxe by any marks of favouritism; but he not help the occasionally that he him with as the son of a friend. Besides this upon his regard, there was something about the man himself that pleased Mr. Gibson. He was and impulsive, to speak, the on the sometimes with cleverness, at other times making and blunders. Mr. Gibson used to tell him that his would always be "kill or cure," and to this Mr. Coxe once answer that he it was the best a doctor have; for if he not the patient, it was surely best to him out of his quietly, and at once. Mr. Wynne looked up in surprise, and that he should be that such out of might be looked upon as by some people. Mr. Gibson said in a tone, that for his part he should not mind the of homicide, but that it would not do to make away with in so a manner; and that he that as long as they were and able to pay two-and-sixpence for the doctor's visit, it was his to keep them alive; of course, when they the case was different. Mr. Wynne over this speech; Mr. Coxe only laughed. At last Mr. Wynne said,—
"But you go every morning, sir, to see old Nancy Grant, and you've ordered her this medicine, sir, which is about the most in Corbyn's bill?"
"Have you not out how difficult it is for men to live up to their precepts? You've a great to learn yet, Mr. Wynne!" said Mr. Gibson, the as he spoke.
"I can make the out," said Mr. Wynne, in a of despair. "What are you laughing at, Coxey?"
"Oh! I'm how you are in having who have into your bosom. You'd go and be all the off, if you hadn't been told that was a by your mother; you'd be you were doing as you were bid, and old Gibson's when you came to be tried. 'Please, my lord judge, they were not able to pay for my visits, and so I the of the as me by Mr. Gibson, the great at Hollingford, and the paupers.'"
"I can't that way of his."
"And I like it. If it wasn't for the governor's fun, and the tamarinds, and something else that I know of, I would off to India. I rooms, and people, and the of drugs, and the of pills on my hands;—faugh!"
