DRIFTING INTO DANGER.
On Thursday, the country was through all its with the of Roger's home. Mrs. Hamley had not so well, or in such good for two or three days before; and the himself had appeared to be put out without any visible cause. They had not to tell Molly that Osborne's name had only appeared very low in the mathematical tripos. So all that their visitor was that something was out of tune, and she that Roger's home would set it to rights, for it was the power of her small and wiles.
On Thursday, the to her for some in her bedroom, by saying she had been Mr. Roger's rooms. "Not but what they were as clean as be beforehand; but would always have the gentlemen's rooms they came home. If it had been Mr. Osborne, the whole house would have had to be done; but, to be sure, he was the son, so it was but likely." Molly was at this to the of heirship; but somehow she herself had into the family manner of that nothing was too great or too good for "the son." In his father's eyes, Osborne was the of the house of Hamley of Hamley, the owner of the land which had been theirs for a thousand years. His mother to him they two were in the same mould, physically and mentally—because he her name. She had Molly with her faith, and, in of her at the housemaid's speech, the girl visitor would have been as as any one to her to the heir, if it had been he that was coming. After luncheon, Mrs. Hamley to rest, in for Roger's return; and Molly also retired to her own room, that it would be for her to there until dinner-time, and so to the father and mother to their boy in privacy. She took a book of MS. with her; they were all of Osborne Hamley's composition; and his mother had read some of them to her visitor more than once. Molly had asked permission to copy one or two of those which were her favourites; and this she took this for her employment, at the open window, and herself in out-looks into the gardens and woods, in the noon-tide heat. The house was so still, in its it might have been the "moated grange;" the of the flies, in the great window, the noise in-doors. And there was a out-of-doors but the of bees, in the flower-beds the window. Distant voices from the far-away where they were making hay—the of which came in from that of the nearer roses and honeysuckles—these voices just Molly the of the present silence. She had left off copying, her hand with the of so much writing, and she was trying to learn one or two of the off by heart.
I asked of the wind, but answer it none,
Save its sad and moan—
she saying to herself, her of meaning the had had, in the which had mechanical. Suddenly there was the of a gate; on the gravel, horses' on the drive; a loud voice in the house, up through the open windows, the hall, the passages, the staircase, with and of tone. The entrance-hall was with diamonds of black and white marble; the low wide that in around the hall, till you look upon the marble from the top of the house, was uncarpeted—uncovered. The Squire was too proud of his beautifully-joined to this stair-case up unnecessarily; not to say a word of the of want of money to upon the of his house. So, through the square of the and every clear and distinct; and Molly the Squire's "Hallo! here he is," and madam's softer, more voice; and then the loud, full, tone, which she must be Roger's. Then there was an opening and of doors, and only a of talking. Molly again—
I asked of the wind, but answer it none.
And this time she had nearly learning the poem, when she Mrs. Hamley come into her sitting-room that Molly's bedroom, and out into an half-hysterical fit of sobbing. Molly was too to have any of which should prevent her going at once to try and give what she could. In an she was at Mrs. Hamley's feet, the lady's hands, them, soft words; which, all as they were of but with the grief, did Mrs. Hamley good. She herself, sadly at Molly through the of her thick-coming sobs.
"It's only Osborne," said she, at last. "Roger has been telling us about him."
"What about him?" asked Molly, eagerly.
"I on Monday; we had a letter—he said he had not done so well as we had hoped—as he had himself, fellow! He said he had just passed, but was only low among the junior optimes, and not where he had expected, and had us to expect. But the Squire has been at college, and not college terms, and he has been Roger all about it, and Roger has been telling him, and it has him so angry. But the college slang;—he has been there, you know; and he Osborne was taking it too lightly, and he has been Roger about it, and Roger—"
There was a fresh fit of the crying. Molly out,—"I don't think Mr. Roger should have told; he had no need to so soon about his brother's failure. Why, he hasn't been in the house an hour!"
"Hush, hush, love!" said Mrs. Hamley. "Roger is so good. You don't understand. The would and ask questions Roger had food—as soon as we had got into the dining-room. And all he said—to me, at any rate—was that Osborne was nervous, and that if he only have gone in for the Chancellor's medals, he would have all him. But Roger said that after like this, he is not very likely to a fellowship, which the Squire had his on. Osborne himself so sure of it, that the can't it, and is angry, and more so the more he talks about it. He has it in two or three days, and that him. He is always when he is angry about a thing at once, and doesn't let it in his mind. Poor, Osborne! I did wish he had been home, of going to these friends of his; I I have him. But now I'm glad, for it will be to let his father's anger first."
So talking out what was in her heart, Mrs. Hamley more composed; and at length she Molly to dress for dinner, with a kiss, saying,—
"You're a to mothers, child! You give one such sympathy, in one's and in one's sorrow; in one's (for I was so proud last week, so confident), and in one's disappointment. And now your being a fourth at dinner will keep us off that subject; there are times when a in the is a help."
Molly over all that she had heard, as she was and on the terrible, over-smart in of the new arrival. Her to Osborne was not in the least by his having come to at Cambridge. Only she was indignant—with or without reason—against Roger, who to have the of news as an of first-fruits on his return home.
She into the drawing-room with anything but a welcome to him in her heart. He was by his mother; the Squire had not yet his appearance. Molly that the two were hand in hand when she opened the door, but she not be sure. Mrs. Hamley came a little to meet her, and her in so a way to her son, that Molly, and simple, nothing but Hollingford manners, which were anything but formal, put out her hand to shake hands with one of she had so much—the son of such friends. She only he had not the movement, for he no attempt to respond to it; only bowed.
He was a tall powerfully-made man, the of more than elegance. His was square, ruddy-coloured (as his father had said), and brown—the deep-set his thick eyebrows; and he had a of up his when he wanted particularly to anything, which his look smaller still at such times. He had a large mouth, with lips; and another of his was, that when he was at anything, he the to laugh, by a manner of and up his mouth, till at length the of had its way, and his relaxed, and he into a sunny smile; his teeth—his only feature—breaking out with a white upon the red-brown countenance. These two of his—of up the eyelids, so as to the power of sight, which him look and thoughtful; and the odd of the that was to a smile, which him look merry—gave the of his a range "from to gay, from to severe," than is common with most men. To Molly, who was not in her at the this night, he appeared "heavy-looking, clumsy," and "a person she was sure she should on with." He did not to much what he upon his mother's visitor. He was at that age when men a more than a with any amount of of loveliness, and when they are of the of of in talking to girls in a of hobbledehoyhood. Besides, his were full of other subjects, which he did not to allow to out in words, yet he wanted to prevent any of that which he might be impending—with an angry and father, and a and mother. He only looked upon Molly as a badly-dressed, and girl, with black and an face, who might help him in the he had set himself of up a the of the evening; might help him—if she would, but she would not. She him in his talkativeness; his of upon was a wonder and a to her. How he go on so while his mother sat there, anything, and doing her best, with ill-success, to the that would keep to her eyes; when his father's was clouded, and he nothing—at at least—for all the his son forth? Had Mr. Roger Hamley no in him? She would that she had some, at any rate. So she the part, which he had she would have taken, of respondent, and possible questioner; and his work more and more like that of a man walking in a quagmire. Once the Squire himself to speak to the butler; he the need of stimulus—of a than usual.
"Bring up a bottle of the Burgundy with the yellow seal."
He spoke low; he had no to speak in his voice. The answered in the same tone. Molly near them, and herself, what they said.
"If you please, sir, there are not above six bottles of that seal left; and it is Mr. Osborne's wine."
The Squire with a in his voice.
"Bring up a bottle of the Burgundy with the yellow seal, as I said."
The away wondering. "Mr. Osborne's" and had been the law of the house in until now. If he had liked any particular food or drink, any seat or place, any special of or coolness, his were to be to; for he was the heir, and he was delicate, and he was the one of the family. All the out-of-doors men would have said the same. Mr. Osborne a tree cut down, or standing, or had such-and-such a about the game, or something about the horses; and they had all to to it as if it were law. But to-day the Burgundy with the yellow seal was to be brought; and it was brought. Molly with of action; she took wine, so she need not have been of the man's it into her glass; but as an open mark of to the Osborne, little it might be understood, she the of her small hand over the top of the glass, and it there, till the had gone round, and Roger and his father were in full of it.
After dinner, too, the long over their dessert, and Molly them laughing; and then she saw them about in the out-of-doors; Roger hatless, his hands in his pockets, by his father's side, who was now able to talk in his loud and way, Osborne. Væ victis!
Væ Victis!
Væ Victis!
Click to ENLARGE
And so in mute opposition on Molly's side, in indifference, upon on his, Roger and she clear of each other. He had many in which he needed no companionship, if she had been to give it. The was, that she he was in the of the library, her retreat, in the Mrs. Hamley came down. She opened the half-closed door a day or two after his return home, and him among books and papers, with which the large leather-covered table was strewn; and she he turn his and see her, so as to her from one of the housemaids. He out every day, sometimes with his father about the fields, sometimes away for a good gallop. Molly would have him on these occasions, for she was very of riding; and there had been some talk of sending for her and when she came to Hamley; only the Squire, after some consideration, had said he so did more than go slowly from one to another, where his were at work, that he she would such slow work—ten minutes through land, twenty minutes still on horseback, to the he should have to give to his men—rather dull. Now, when if she had had her here she might have out with Roger, without him any trouble—she would have taken of that—nobody to think of the proposal.
Altogether it was he came home.
Her father over frequently; sometimes there were long absences, it was true; when his to after him, and to wonder what had of him. But when he his he had always good to give; and the right she that she had to his familiar tenderness; the power she of the exact value of his and his silence, these of with him charming. Latterly her had always been, "When may I come home, papa?" It was not that she was unhappy, or uncomfortable; she was of Mrs. Hamley, she was a of the Squire's, and not as yet why some people were so much of him; and as for Roger, if he did not add to her pleasure, he took away from it. But she wanted to be at home once more. The why she not tell; but this she full well. Mr. Gibson with her till she was of being that it was right and necessary for her to where she was. And then with an she stopped the upon her tongue, for she saw that its her father.
During this of hers Mr. Gibson was into matrimony. He was aware of he was going; and it was like the soft movement of a dream. He was more than active in the affair; though, if his had not of the step he was to—if he had not that a second marriage was the very best way of the Gordian of difficulties, he have an without any great trouble, and himself without pain from the of circumstances. It in this manner:—Lady Cumnor having married her two daughters, her as a to Lady Harriet, the youngest, by co-operation; and, at length, she had to be an invalid. She was, however, too to allow herself this constantly; only she permitted herself to occasionally after a long of dinners, late hours, and London atmosphere: and then, Lady Harriet with either Lady Cuxhaven or Lady Agnes Manners, she herself to the of the Towers, where she in doing her benevolence, which was sadly neglected in the hurly-burly of London. This particular she had than usual, and for the of the country. She that her of health, too, was more than previously; but she did not say a word of this to her husband or daughters; her for Mr. Gibson's ears. She did not wish to take Lady Harriet away from the of town which she was enjoying, by any of hers, which might, after all, be ill-founded; and yet she did not like being without a in the three or a month that might her family would join her at the Towers, as the to the visitors was impending; and the and the visit of the ladies with it, had the of novelty.
"Thursday the 19th, Harriet," said Lady Cumnor, meditatively; "what do you say to to the Towers on the 18th, and helping me over that long day. You in the country till Monday, and have a days' and good air; you would return a great to the of your gaieties. Your father would you down, I know: indeed, he is naturally."
"Oh, mamma!" said Lady Harriet, the of the house—the prettiest, the most indulged; "I cannot go; there's the water-party up to Maidenhead on the 20th, I should be so sorry to miss it: and Mrs. Duncan's ball, and Grisi's concert; please, don't want me. Besides, I should do no good. I can't make small-talk; I'm not up in the local politics of Hollingford. I should be making mischief, I know I should."
"Very well, my dear," said Lady Cumnor, sighing, "I had the Maidenhead water-party, or I would not have asked you."
"What a it isn't the Eton holidays, so that you have had Hollingford's boys to help you to do the honours, mamma. They are such little prigs. It was the fun to watch them last year at Sir Edward's, doing the of their grandfather's house to much such a of as you together at the Towers. I shall Edgar about an old lady in a black bonnet, and her in the possible."
"Well, I like those lads," said Lady Cuxhaven; "they are on the way to true gentlemen. But, mamma, why shouldn't you have Clare to with you? You like her, and she is just the person to save you the of to the Hollingford people, and we should all be so much more if we you had her with you."
"Yes, Clare would do very well," said Lady Cumnor; "but isn't it her school-time or something? We must not with her so as to her, for I am she is not doing too well as it is; and she has been so very unlucky since she left us—first her husband died, and then she Lady Davies' situation, and then Mrs. Maude's, and now Mr. Preston told your father it was all she do to pay her way in Ashcombe, though Lord Cumnor lets her have the house rent-free."
"I can't think how it is," said Lady Harriet. "She's not very wise, certainly; but she is so useful and agreeable, and has such manners, I should have any one who wasn't particular about education would have been to keep her as a governess."
"What do you by not being particular about education? Most people who keep for their children are to be particular," said Lady Cuxhaven.
"Well, they think themselves so, I've no doubt; but I call you particular, Mary, and I don't think was; but she herself so, I'm sure."
"I can't think what you mean, Harriet," said Lady Cumnor, a good at this speech of her clever, heedless, daughter.
"Oh dear, mamma, you did you think of for us; but you see you'd so many other interests, and Mary her love for her husband to with her all-absorbing for the children. You gave us the best of masters in every department, and Clare to and keep us up to our for them, as well as she could; but then you know, or you didn't know, some of the masters our very governess, and there was a of going on, which came to anything, to be sure; and then you were often so with your as a great lady—fashionable and benevolent, and all that of thing—that you used to call Clare away from us at the most times of our lessons, to your notes, or add up your accounts, and the is, that I'm about the most ill-informed girl in London. Only Mary was so by good Miss Benson, that she is always full to overflowing with knowledge, and her is upon me."
"Do you think what Harriet says is true, Mary?" asked Lady Cumnor, anxiously.
"I was so little with Clare in the school-room. I used to read French with her; she had a accent, I remember. Both Agnes and Harriet were very of her. I used to be for Miss Benson's sake, and perhaps—" Lady Cuxhaven paused a minute—"that me that she had a way of and them—not conscientious, I used to think. But girls are judges, and she had had an lifetime. I am always so when we can have her, and give her a little pleasure. The only thing that makes me now is the way in which she to send her away from her so much; we can her to Cynthia with her when she comes to see us."
"Now that I call ill-natured," said Lady Harriet; "here is a dear woman trying to earn her livelihood, as a governess, and what she do with her then, but send her to school? and after that, when Clare is asked to go visiting, and is too to her girl with her—besides all the of the journey, and the out—Mary fault with her for her and economy."
"Well, after all, we are not Clare and her affairs, but trying to plan for mamma's comfort. I don't see that she can do than ask Mrs. Kirkpatrick to come to the Towers—as soon as her begin, I mean."
"Here is her last letter," said Lady Cumnor, who had been for it in her escritoire, while her were talking. Holding her her eyes, she to read, "'My appear to have me to Ashcombe'—um, um, um; that's not it—'Mr. Preston is most in sending me fruit and flowers from the Manor-house, according to dear Lord Cumnor's injunction.' Oh, here it is! 'The on the 11th, according to the of in Ashcombe; and I must then try and obtain some of air and scene, in order to fit myself for the of my on the 10th of August.' You see, girls, she would be at liberty, if she has not any other for her holidays. To-day is the 15th."
"I'll to her at once, mamma," Lady Harriet said. "Clare and I are always great friends; I was her in her loves with Mr. Kirkpatrick, and we've up our since. I know of three offers she had besides."
"I Miss Bowes is not telling her love-affairs to Grace or Lily. Why, Harriet, you not have been older than Grace when Clare was married!" said Lady Cuxhaven, in alarm.
"No; but I was well in the passion, thanks to novels. Now I you don't admit into your school-room, Mary; so your wouldn't be able to to their in case she was the of a love-affair."
"My dear Harriet, don't let me you talking of love in that way; it is not pretty. Love is a thing."
"My dear mamma, your are just eighteen years too late. I've talked all the off love, and that's the I'm of the subject."
This last speech to a of Lady Harriet's, which had Lady Cumnor, and my lord; as they, the parents, see no to the in question. Lady Cuxhaven did not want to have the up, so she to say,—
"Do ask the little to come with her mother to the Towers; why, she must be seventeen or more; she would be a to you, mamma, if her mother was unable to come."
"I was not ten when Clare married, and I'm nearly nine-and-twenty," added Lady Harriet.
"Don't speak of it, Harriet; at any you are but eight-and-twenty now, and you look a great younger. There is no need to be always up your age on every possible occasion."
"There was need of it now, though. I wanted to make out how old Cynthia Kirkpatrick was. I think she can't be from eighteen."
"She is at at Boulogne, I know; and so I don't think she can be as old as that. Clare says something about her in this letter: 'Under these circumstances' (the ill-success of her school), 'I cannot think myself in myself the of having Cynthia at home for the holidays; as the period when the in French from that common in England; and it might occasion some in my if Cynthia were to come to Ashcombe, and my time and so the of my as the 8th of August, on which day her begins, which is but two days my end.' So, you see, Clare would be at to come to me, and I it would be a very for her."
"And Hollingford is after his new laboratory at the Towers, and is and forwards. And Agnes wants to go there for of air, as soon as she is after her confinement. And my own dear 'me' will have had of in two or three weeks, if this weather lasts."
"I think I may be able to come for a days too, if you will let me, mamma; and I'll Grace, who is looking and weedy; too fast, I'm afraid. So I you won't be dull."
"My dear," said Lady Cumnor, herself up, "I should be of with my resources; my to others and to myself!"
So the plan in its present shape was told to Lord Cumnor, who of it; as he always did of every project of his wife's. Lady Cumnor's was a little too for him in reality, but he was always full of for all her and deeds, and used to of her wisdom, her benevolence, her power and dignity, in her absence, as if by this means he up his own more nature.
"Very good—very good, indeed! Clare to join you at the Towers! Capital! I couldn't have planned it myself! I shall go with you on Wednesday in time for the on Thursday. I always that day; they are such nice, people, those good Hollingford ladies. Then I'll have a day with Sheepshanks, and I may over to Ashcombe and see Preston—Brown Jess can do it in a day, eighteen miles—to be sure! But there's again to the Towers!—how much is twice eighteen—thirty?"
"Thirty-six," said Lady Cumnor, sharply.
"So it is; you're always right, my dear. Preston's a clever, fellow."
"I don't like him," said my lady.
"He takes looking after; but he's a fellow. He's such a good-looking man, too, I wonder you don't like him."
"I think a land-agent is or not. They don't to the class of people I notice."
"To be sure not. But he is a fellow; and what should make you like him is the he takes in Clare and her prospects. He is something that can be done to her house, and I know he sends her fruit, and flowers, and game just as as we should ourselves if we at Ashcombe."
"How old is he?" said Lady Cumnor, with a of in her mind.
"About twenty-seven, I think. Ah! I see what is in your ladyship's head. No! no! he's too for that. You must look out for some middle-aged man, if you want to Clare married; Preston won't do."
"I'm not a match-maker, as you might know. I did it for my own daughters. I'm not likely to do it for Clare," said she, languidly.
"Well! you might do a thing. I'm to think she'll on as a schoolmistress, though why she shouldn't, I'm sure I don't know; for she's an woman for her age, and her having in our family, and your having had her so often with you, ought to go a good way. I say, my lady, what do you think of Gibson? He would be just the right age—widower—lives near the Towers?"
"I told you just now I was no match-maker, my lord. I we had go by the old road—the people at those know us?"
And so they passed on to speaking about other than Mrs. Kirkpatrick and her prospects, or matrimonial.
