THE WIDOWER AND THE WIDOW.
Mrs. Kirkpatrick was only too happy to accept Lady Cumnor's invitation. It was what she had been for, but to expect, as she that the family were settled in London for some time to come. The Towers was a and house in which to pass her holidays; and though she was not one to make plans, or to look ahead, she was aware of the which her being able to say she had been with "dear Lady Cumnor" at the Towers, was likely to give her and her in the of a good many people; so she prepared to join her on the 17th. Her did not much arrangement; if it had done, the lady would not have had much money to to the purpose. She was very and graceful; and that goes a great way off clothes; and it was her taste more than any of feeling, that had her in all the tints—the and grays—which, with a of black, half-mourning. This of dress she was to wear in memory of Mr. Kirkpatrick; in it was lady-like and economical. Her was of that rich that gray; and out of of its beauty, and the of is expensive, she did not wear anything on her head; her had the that often the of which has once been red; and the only her skin had from years was that the was more than delicate, and less with every emotion. She no longer blush; and at eighteen she had been very proud of her blushes. Her were soft, large, and china-blue in colour; they had not much or about them, which was to the colour of her eyelashes. Her was a little than it used to be, but her movements were as soft and as ever. Altogether, she looked much than her age, which was not of forty. She had a very voice, and read well and distinctly, which Lady Cumnor liked. Indeed, for some reason, she was a greater, more positive with Lady Cumnor than with any of the of the family, though they all liked her up to a point, and it useful to have any one in the house who was so well with their and habits; so to talk, when a little of was required; so to listen, and to with intelligence, if the spoken about did not to solid literature, or science, or politics, or social economy. About and poetry, and gossip, personal details, or of any kind, she always the which are from an listener; and she had to herself to those of wonder, admiration, and astonishment, which may anything, when more were talked about.
It was a very to a to her own house, full of and (she had taken the good-will and of her at a valuation, two or three years before), where the look-out was as gloomy, and the as squalid, as is often the case in the smaller of a country town, and to come through the Towers Park in the sent to meet her; to alight, and secure that the well-trained would see after her bags, and umbrella, and parasol, and cloak, without her herself with all these portable articles, as she had had to do while the her in going to the Ashcombe coach-office that morning; to pass up the deep-piled of the stairs into my lady's own room, and fresh, on this day, and with great of roses of every of colour. There were two or three new on the table; the daily papers, the magazines. Every chair was an easy-chair of some or other; and all with French that the flowers in the garden below. She was familiar with the called hers, to which she was soon by Lady Cumnor's maid. It to her more like home than the place she had left that morning; it was so natural to her to like draperies, and colouring, and linen, and soft raiment. She in the arm-chair by the bed-side, and over her something in this fashion—
"One would think it was an easy thing to a looking-glass like that with and pink ribbons; and yet how hard it is to keep it up! People don't know how hard it is till they've as I have. I my own just as when I to Ashcombe; but the got dirty, and the pink faded, and it is so difficult to earn money to them; and when one has got the money one hasn't the to it all at once. One thinks and one thinks how one can the most good out of it; and a new gown, or a day's pleasure, or some hot-house fruit, or some piece of that can be and noticed in one's drawing-room, the day, and good-by to looking-glasses. Now here, money is like the air they breathe. No one or how much the costs, or what pink is a yard. Ah! it would be different if they had to earn every as I have! They would have to calculate, like me, how to the most out of it. I wonder if I am to go on all my life and for money? It's not natural. Marriage is the natural thing; then the husband has all that of dirty work to do, and his wife in the drawing-room like a lady. I did, when Kirkpatrick was alive. Heigho! it's a sad thing to be a widow."
Then there was the the dinners which she had to with her at Ashcombe—rounds of beef, of mutton, great of potatoes, and large batter-puddings, with the of delicacies, sent up on old Chelsea china, that was every day to the and and herself at the Towers. She the end of her as much as the most home-loving of her pupils. But at this time that end was some off, so Clare her to the future, and to the present to its extent. A to the pleasant, of the days came in the of Lady Cumnor. Her husband had gone to London, and she and Mrs. Kirkpatrick had been left to the very of life, which was according to my lady's wish just now. In of her and fatigue, she had gone through the day when the visitors came to the Towers, in full dignity, all that was to be done, what walks were to be taken, what to be seen, and when the party were to return to the "collation." She herself indoors, with one or two ladies who had to think that the or the might be too much for them, and who had therefore the ladies in of Mrs. Kirkpatrick, or those other to Lord Cumnor was the new in his farm-yard. "With the condescension," as her it, Lady Cumnor told them all about her married daughters' establishments, nurseries, plans for the education of their children, and manner of the day. But the her; and when every one had left, the is that she would have gone to and rest, had not her husband an unlucky in the of his heart. He came up to her and put his hand on her shoulder.
"I'm you're sadly tired, my lady?" he said.
She her muscles, and herself up, saying coldly,—
"When I am tired, Lord Cumnor, I will tell you so." And her itself the of the in her particularly upright, and all offers of easy-chairs or foot-stools, and the of a that they should all go to earlier. She on in something of this of manner as long as Lord Cumnor at the Towers. Mrs. Kirkpatrick was by it, and assuring Lord Cumnor that she had dear Lady Cumnor looking better, or so strong. But he had an heart, if a head; and though he give no for his belief, he was almost his wife was not well. Yet he was too much of her to send for Mr. Gibson without her permission. His last to Clare were—
"It's such a to my lady to you; only don't you be by her ways. She'll not she's till she can't help it. Consult with Bradley" (Lady Cumnor's "own woman,"—she the new-fangledness of "lady's-maid"); "and if I were you, I'd send and ask Gibson to call—you might make any of a pretence,"—and then the idea he had had in London of the of a match the two into his just now, he not help adding,—"Get him to come and see you, he's a very man; Lord Hollingford says there's no one like him in these parts: and he might be looking at my lady while he was talking to you, and see if he thinks her ill. And let me know what he says about her."
But Clare was just as great a about doing anything for Lady Cumnor which she had not ordered, as Lord Cumnor himself. She she might into such if she sent for Mr. Gibson without direct permission, that she might be asked to at the Towers again; and the life there, in its of luxury as it might be to some, was to her taste. She in her turn to put upon Bradley the which Lord Cumnor had put upon her.
"Mrs. Bradley," she said one day, "are you about my lady's health? Lord Cumnor that she was looking and ill?"
"Indeed, Mrs. Kirkpatrick, I don't think my lady is herself. I can't myself as she is, though if you was to question me till night I couldn't tell you why."
"Don't you think you make some to Hollingford, and see Mr. Gibson, and ask him to come this way some day, and make a call on Lady Cumnor?"
"It would be as much as my place is worth, Mrs. Kirkpatrick. Till my lady's day, if Providence her in her senses, she'll have done her own way, or not at all. There's only Lady Harriet that can manage her the least, and she not always."
"Well, then—we must that there is nothing the with her; and I there is not. She says there is not, and she ought to know best herself."
But a day or two after this took place, Lady Cumnor Mrs. Kirkpatrick, by saying suddenly,—"Clare, I wish you'd a note to Mr. Gibson, saying I should like to see him this afternoon. I he would have called of himself now. He ought to have done so, to pay his respects."
Mr. Gibson had been too in his to have time for visits of ceremony, though he well he was what was of him. But the of which he may be said to have had medical was full of a of low fever, which took up all his time and thought, and often him very that Molly was out of the way in the of Hamley.
His "rows" had not over in the least, though he was to put the on one for the time. The last drop—the final straw, had been an visit of Lord Hollingford's, he had met in the town one forenoon. They had had a good to say to each other about some new scientific discovery, with the of which Lord Hollingford was well acquainted, while Mr. Gibson was and interested. At length Lord Hollingford said suddenly,—
"Gibson, I wonder if you'd give me some lunch; I've been a good about since my seven-o'clock breakfast, and am ravenous."
Now Mr. Gibson was only too much pleased to to one he liked and so much as Lord Hollingford, and he took him home with him to the early family dinner. But it was just at the time when the cook was at Bethia's dismissal—and she to be and careless. There was no to Bethia as yet to wait at the meals. So, though Mr. Gibson well that bread-and-cheese, cold beef, or the food available, would have been welcome to the lord, he not either these for luncheon, or the family dinner, at anything like the proper time, in of all his ringing, and as much anger as he liked to show, for of making Lord Hollingford uncomfortable. At last dinner was ready, but the saw the want of nicety—almost the want of cleanliness, in all its accompaniments—dingy plate, dull-looking glass, a table-cloth that, if not dirty, was anything but fresh in its and condition, and it in his own mind with the with which a of was up at his guest's home. He did not directly, but, after dinner, just as they were parting, he said,—"You see a man like me—a widower—with a who cannot always be at home—has not the which would me to the small of time I can there."
He no to the of which they had partaken, though it was full in his mind. Nor was it from Lord Hollingford's as he reply,—
"True, true. Yet a man like you ought to be free from any of cares. You ought to have somebody. How old is Miss Gibson?"
"Seventeen. It's a very age for a girl."
"Yes; very. I have only boys, but it must be very with a girl. Excuse me, Gibson, but we're talking like friends. Have you of marrying again? It wouldn't be like a marriage, of course; but if you a sensible, woman of thirty or so, I think you couldn't do than take her to manage your home, and so save you either or worry; and, besides, she would be able to give your that of which, I fancy, all girls of that age require. It's a subject, but you'll my having spoken frankly."
Mr. Gibson had of this times since it was given; but it was a case of "first catch your hare." Where was the "sensible and woman of thirty or so?" Not Miss Browning, Miss Phœbe, Miss Goodenough. Among his country there were two marked: farmers, children were and uneducated; squires, would, indeed, think the world was to a pass, if they were to a country surgeon.
But the day on which Mr. Gibson paid his visit to Lady Cumnor, he to think it possible that Mrs. Kirkpatrick was his "hare." He away with rein, over what he of her, more than about the he should write, or the way he was going. He her as a very Miss Clare: the who had the fever; that was in his wife's days, a long time ago; he Mrs. Kirkpatrick's of when he how long. Then he had of her marriage to a curate; and the next day (or so it seemed, he not the exact of the interval), of his death. He knew, in some way, that she had been since as a in different families; but that she had always been a great with the family at the Towers, for whom, of their rank, he had a true respect. A year or two ago he had that she had taken the good-will of a at Ashcombe; a small town close to another property of Lord Cumnor's, in the same county. Ashcombe was a larger than that near Hollingford, but the old Manor-house there was not nearly so good a as the Towers; so it was up to Mr. Preston, the land-agent for the Ashcombe property, just as Mr. Sheepshanks was for that at Hollingford. There were a rooms at the Manor-house for the occasional visits of the family, otherwise Mr. Preston, a bachelor, had it all to himself. Mr. Gibson that Mrs. Kirkpatrick had one child, a daughter, who must be much about the same age as Molly. Of she had very little, if any, property. But he himself had carefully, and had a thousands well invested; which, his professional was good, and than every year. By the time he had at this point in his of the case, he was at the house of the next patient on his round, and he put away all of and Mrs. Kirkpatrick for the time. Once again, in the of the day, he with a that Molly had told him some little with her unlucky at the Towers five or six years ago, which had him at the time as if Mrs. Kirkpatrick had very to his little girl. So there the rested for the present, as as he was concerned.
Lady Cumnor was out of health; but not so as she had been herself all those days when the people about her not send for the doctor. It was a great to her to have Mr. Gibson to decide for her what she was to do; what to eat, drink, avoid. Such ab extra, are sometimes a to those it has been to decide, not only for themselves, but for every one else; and occasionally the of the which a for with it, much to health. Mrs. Kirkpatrick in her that she had it so easy to on with Lady Cumnor; and Bradley and she had done the of Mr. Gibson, "who always managed my lady so beautifully."
Reports were sent up to my lord, but he and his were to come down. Lady Cumnor to be weak and languid, and in and mind, without family observation. It was a condition so different to anything she had been in before, that she was of her prestige, if she was in it. Sometimes she herself the daily bulletins; at other times she Clare do it, but she would always see the letters. Any she from her she used to read herself, occasionally some of their to "that good Clare." But might read my lord's letters. There was no great of family out in his lines of affection. But once Mrs. Kirkpatrick came upon a in a from Lord Cumnor, which she was reading out loud to his wife, that her she came to it, and if she have it and it for private perusal, she would have done so. My lady was too for her, though. In her opinion "Clare was a good creature, but not clever," the truth being that she was not always quick at resources, though in the use of them.
"Read on. What are you stopping for? There is no news, is there, about Agnes?—Give me the letter."
Lady Cumnor read, aloud,—
"'How are Clare and Gibson on? You my to help on that affair, but I think a little match-making would be a very now that you are up in the house; and I cannot any marriage more suitable.'"
"Oh!" said Lady Cumnor, laughing, "it was for you to come upon that, Clare: I don't wonder you stopped short. You gave me a terrible fright, though."
"Lord Cumnor is so of joking," said Mrs. Kirkpatrick, a little flurried, yet the truth of his last words,—"I cannot any marriage more suitable." She what Lady Cumnor of it. Lord Cumnor as if there was a chance. It was not an idea; it a out upon her face, as she sat by Lady Cumnor, while the took her nap.
