FORESHADOWS OF LOVE PERILS.
Illustrationf Squire Hamley had been unable to tell Molly who had been of as her father's second wife, was all this time preparing an answer of a positive to her curiosity. But is a hussy, and up her plans as as a bird her nest; and with much the same of trifles. The "trifle" of an event was the which Jenny (Mr. Gibson's cook) to make at Bethia's being dismissed. Bethia was a relation and protégée of Jenny's, and she to say it was Mr. Coxe the who ought to have "been sent packing," not Bethia the tempted, the victim. In this view there was to make Mr. Gibson that he had been unjust. He had, however, taken to provide Bethia with another situation, to the full as good as that which she in his family. Jenny, nevertheless, to give warning; and though Mr. Gibson full well from that her were words, not deeds, he the discomfort, the uncertainty,—the entire of meeting a woman at any time in his house, who a and an upon her as as Jenny took to do.
Down into the middle of this small trouble came another, and one of consequence. Miss Eyre had gone with her old mother, and her and nieces, to the sea-side, Molly's absence, which was only at to last for a fortnight. After about ten days of this time had elapsed, Mr. Gibson a written, worded, folded, and most sealed from Miss Eyre. Her nephew had of fever, and there was every that the children would be by the same complaint. It was for Miss Eyre—this additional expense, this anxiety—the long from home which the involved. But she said not a word of any to herself; she only with for her to return at the time to her in Mr. Gibson's family; adding, that it was as well, for Molly had had the fever, and if Miss Eyre had been able to the children to return to her employments, it might not have been a safe or a step.
"To be sure not," said Mr. Gibson, the in two, and it into the hearth, where he soon saw it to ashes. "I wish I'd a five-pound house and not a woman ten miles of me. I might have some peace then." Apparently, he Mr. Coxe's powers of making mischief; but he might have that to the Molly. The martyr-cook's entrance to take away the things, which she by a sigh, Mr. Gibson from to action.
"Molly must a little longer at Hamley," he resolved. "They've often asked for her, and now they'll have of her, I think. But I can't have her here just yet; and so the best I can do for her is to her where she is. Mrs. Hamley very of her, and the child is looking happy, and in health. I'll by Hamley to-day at any rate, and see how the land lies."
He Mrs. Hamley on a sofa under the of the great cedar-tree on the lawn. Molly was about her, away under her directions; up the long sea-green of carnations, off roses.
"Oh! here's papa!" she out, joyfully, as he up to the white which the lawn and flower-garden from the park-like ground in of the house.
"Come in—come here—through the drawing-room window," said Mrs. Hamley, herself on her elbow. "We've got a rose-tree to you that Molly has all by herself. We are so proud of it."
So Mr. Gibson to the stables, left his there, and his way through the house to the open-air summer-parlour under the cedar-tree, where there were chairs, table, books, and work. Somehow, he for Molly to her visit; so he to his first, and then take the of the day, the sweet repose, the murmurous, air. Molly by him, her hand on his shoulder. He opposite to Mrs. Hamley.
"I've come here to-day to ask a favour," he began.
"Granted you name it. Am not I a woman?"
He and bowed, but on with his speech.
"Miss Eyre, who has been Molly's governess, I I must call her—for many years, to-day to say that one of the little she took with her to Newport while Molly was here, has the fever."
"I your request. I make it you do. I for dear little Molly to on here. Of Miss Eyre can't come to you; and of Molly must here!"
"Thank you; thank you very much. That was my request."
Molly's hand to his, and in that grasp.
"Papa!—Mrs. Hamley!—I know you'll me—but mayn't I go home? I am very happy here; but—oh papa! I think I should like to be at home with you best."
An across his mind. He her round, and looked and into her face. Her colour came at his scrutiny, but her sweet were with wonder, than with any which he to find. For an he had red-headed Mr. Coxe's love might not have called out a response in his daughter's breast; but he was clear now.
"Molly, you're to with. I don't know how you're to make your peace with Mrs. Hamley, I'm sure. And in the next place, do you think you're than I am; or that I don't want you at home, if all other were conformable? Stay where you are, and be thankful."
Molly him well to be that the of her visit at Hamley was a in his mind; and then she was with a of ingratitude. She left her father, and to Mrs. Hamley, and over her and her; but she did not speak. Mrs. Hamley took of her hand, and room on the sofa for her.
"I was going to have asked for a longer visit the next time you came, Mr. Gibson. We are such happy friends, are not we, Molly? and now, that this good little nephew of Miss Eyre's—"
"I wish he was whipped," said Mr. Gibson.
"—has us such a reason, I shall keep Molly for a long visitation. You must come over and see us very often. There's a room here for you always, you know; and I don't see why you should not start on your from Hamley every morning, just as well as from Hollingford."
"Thank you. If you hadn't been so to my little girl, I might be to say something in answer to your last speech."
"Pray say it. You won't be easy till you have it out, I know."
"Mrs. Hamley has out from I my rudeness," said Molly, triumphantly. "It's an quality."
"I was going to say that of yours that I should sleep at Hamley was just like a woman's idea—all kindness, and no common sense. How in the world would my me out, seven miles from my place? They'd be sure to send for some other doctor, and I should be in a month."
"Couldn't they send on here? A messenger very little."
"Fancy old Goody Henbury up to my surgery, at every step, and then being told to just step on seven miles farther! Or take the other end of society:—I don't think my Lady Cumnor's would thank me for having to on to Hamley every time his wants me."
"Well, well, I submit. I am a woman. Molly, art a woman! Go and order some and for this father of yours. Such offices the of women. Strawberries and are all and no common sense, for they'll give him a fit of indigestion."
"Please speak for yourself, Mrs. Hamley," said Molly, merrily. "I ate—oh, such a great yesterday, and the himself to the dairy and out a great bowl of cream, when he me at my work. And I'm as well as I was, to-day, and had a touch of near me."
"She's a good girl," said her father, when she had out of hearing. The were not an inquiry, he was so of his answer. There was a mixture of and trust in his eyes, as he the reply, which came in a moment.
"She's a darling. I cannot tell you how the Squire and I are of her; of us. I am so to think she isn't to go away for a long time. The thing I of this when I up, was that she would soon have to return to you, unless I you into her with me a little longer. And now she must stay—oh, two months at least."
It was true that the Squire had very of Molly. The of having a girl dancing and about the house and garden, was in its to him. And then Molly was so and so wise; to talk and to at the right times. Mrs. Hamley was right in speaking of her husband's for Molly. But either she herself a time for telling him of the of the girl's visit, or one of the of to which he was liable, but which he to check in the presence of his wife, was upon him; at any rate, he the news in anything but a of mind.
"Stay longer! Did Gibson ask for it?"
"Yes! I don't see what else is to of her; Miss Eyre away and all. It's a very position for a girl like her to be at the of a with two men in it."
"That's Gibson's look-out; he should have of it taking pupils, or apprentices, or he calls them."
"My dear Squire! why, I you'd be as as I was—as I am to keep Molly. I asked her to for an time; two months at least."
"And to be in the house with Osborne! Roger, too, will be at home."
By the cloud in the Squire's eyes, Mrs. Hamley read his mind.
"Oh, she's not at all the of girl men of their age would take to. We like her we see what she is; but of one or two and twenty want all the of a woman."
"Want what?" the Squire.
"Such as dress, of manner. They would not at their age see that she is pretty; their ideas of would colour."
"I all that's very clever; but I don't it. All I know is, that it's a very thing to two men of one and three and twenty up in a country-house like this with a girl of seventeen—choose what her may be like, or her hair, or her eyes. And I told you particularly I didn't want Osborne, or either of them, indeed, to be in love with her. I'm very much annoyed."
Mrs. Hamley's fell; she a little pale.
"Shall we make for their stopping away while she is here; up at Cambridge, or reading with some one? going for a month or two?"
"No; you've been this so long on their home. I've the marks of the on your almanack. I'd sooner speak to Gibson, and tell him he must take his away, for it's not to us—"
"My dear Roger! I you will do no such thing. It will be so unkind; it will give the to all I said yesterday. Don't, please, do that. For my sake, don't speak to Mr. Gibson!"
"Well, well, don't put in a flutter," for he was of her hysterical; "I'll speak to Osborne when he comes home, and tell him how much I should anything of the kind."
"And Roger is always too full of his natural history and anatomy, and of that sort, to be of in love with Venus herself. He has not the and of Osborne."
"Ah, you don't know; you can be sure about a man! But with Roger it wouldn't so much signify. He would know he couldn't for years to come."
All that the Squire to clear of Molly, to he himself to have been an traitor. But she was so perfectly of his of her, and so and sweet in her as a welcome guest, him for a moment, he might be, that by the next she had him round, and they were on the old terms again. At this very morning, a was passed from the Squire to his wife, and again, without a word as to its contents; but—
"Fortunate!"
"Yes! very!"
Little did Molly apply these to the piece of news Mrs. Hamley told her in the of the day; namely, that her son Osborne had an to with a friend in the of Cambridge, and to make a on the Continent with him subsequently; and that, consequently, he would not his when Roger came home.
Molly was very sympathetic.
"Oh, dear! I am so sorry!"
Mrs. Hamley was her husband was not present, Molly spoke the so heartily.
"You have been so long of his home. I am it is a great disappointment."
Mrs. Hamley smiled—relieved.
"Yes! it is a certainly, but we must think of Osborne's pleasure. And with his mind, he will us such letters. Poor fellow! he must be going into the to-day! Both his father and I sure, though, that he will be a high wrangler. Only—I should like to have him, my own dear boy. But it is best as it is."
Molly was a little puzzled by this speech, but soon put it out of her head. It was a to her, too, that she should not see this beautiful, man, his mother's hero. From time to time her had upon what he would be like; how the boy of the picture in Mrs. Hamley's dressing-room would have in the ten years that had since the was taken; if he would read aloud; if he would read his own poetry. However, in the never-ending of the day, she soon her own disappointment; it only came to her on the next morning, as a something that was not so as she had anticipated, and then was as a of regret. Her days at Hamley were well up with the small that would have to a of the house had there been one. She for the squire, and would have up madam's, but that daily piece of work to the squire, and was by him. She read the smaller print of the newspapers to him, city articles, money and markets included. She about the gardens with him, fresh flowers, meanwhile, to the drawing-room against Mrs. Hamley should come down. She was her when she took her in the close carriage; they read and mild together in Mrs. Hamley's sitting-room upstairs. She was at now, and the if she took pains. Besides these things, there were her own of herself. She used to try to an hour daily on the old piano in the drawing-room, she had promised Miss Eyre she would do so. And she had her way into the library, and used to the of the if the had this duty, and the ladder, on the steps, for an hour at a time, in some book of the old English classics. The days were very to this happy girl of seventeen.
