PREPARING FOR THE WEDDING.
Illustrationeanwhile the love-affairs the middle-aged were well, after a fashion; after the fashion that they liked best, although it might have appeared and to people. Lord Cumnor had come in great at the news he had from his wife at the Towers. He, too, to think he had taken an active part in about the match by only speaking about it. His on the to Lady Cumnor were,—
"I told you so. Now didn't I say what a good, thing this Gibson and Clare would be! I don't know when I've been so much pleased. You may the of match-maker, my lady, but I am very proud of it. After this, I shall go on looking out for cases among the middle-aged people of my acquaintance. I shan't with folks, they are so to be fanciful; but I've been so successful in this, that I do think it's good to go on."
"Go on—with what?" asked Lady Cumnor, drily.
"Oh, planning,—you can't that I planned this match."
"I don't think you are likely to do either much good or by planning," she replied, with cool, good sense.
"It puts it into people's heads, my dear."
"Yes, if you speak about your plans to them, of it does. But in this case you spoke to either Mr. Gibson or Clare, did you?"
All at once the of how Clare had come upon the passage in Lord Cumnor's on his lady, but she did not say anything about it, but left her husband to about as best he might.
"No! I spoke to them; of not."
"Then you must be mesmeric, and your will upon theirs, if you are to take for any part in the affair," his wife.
"I can't say. It's no use looking to what I said or did. I'm very well satisfied with it, and that's enough, and I to them how much I'm pleased. I shall give Clare something her out, and they shall have a at Ashcombe Manor-house. I'll to Preston about it. When did you say they were to be married?"
"I think they'd wait till Christmas, and I have told them so. It would the children, going over to Ashcombe for the wedding; and if it's weather the I'm always of their it at the Towers. It's very different if it's a good frost, and they can go out and in the park. But these last two years it has been so wet for them, dears!"
"And will the other be to wait to make a for your grandchildren? 'To make a Roman holiday.' Pope, or somebody else, has a line of like that. 'To make a Roman holiday,'"—he repeated, pleased with his at quotation.
"It's Byron, and it's nothing to do with the in hand. I'm at your lordship's Byron,—he was a very poet."
"I saw him take his in the House of Lords," said Lord Cumnor, apologetically.
"Well! the less said about him the better," said Lady Cumnor. "I have told Clare that she had not think of being married Christmas: and it won't do for her to give up her in a either."
But Clare did not to wait till Christmas; and for this once she her point against the will of the countess, and without many words, or any open opposition. She had a in setting Mr. Gibson's to have Cynthia over for the wedding, if she to her at Boulogne directly after the ceremony. At she had said that it would be delightful, a plan; only she that she must give up her own to have her child near her at such a time, on account of the of the journey.
But Mr. Gibson, as he was in his expenditure, had a heart. He had already it, in his wife's life-interest in the very small property the late Mr. Kirkpatrick had left, in of Cynthia; while he that she should come to his home as a as soon as she left the she was at. The life-interest was about thirty a year. Now he gave Mrs. Kirkpatrick three five-pound notes, saying that he they would do away with the to Cynthia's over to the wedding; and at the time Mrs. Kirkpatrick as if they would, and the of his wish, and it was her own. If the have been and the money sent off that day while the of lasted, Cynthia would have been to her mother. But a hundred little came in the way of letter-writing; and by the next day love had diminished; and the value to the money had increased: money had been so much needed, so in Mrs. Kirkpatrick's life; while the necessary of mother and child had the amount of the had to bestow. So she herself, afresh, that it would be to Cynthia at her studies; to the of her just after the had afresh; and she a to Madame Lefevre so well with this persuasion, that an answer which was almost an echo of her was returned, the of which being to Mr. Gibson, who was no great French scholar, settled the question, to his but regret. But the fifteen were not returned. Indeed, not that sum, but a great part of the hundred which Lord Cumnor had her for her trousseau, was to pay off at Ashcombe; for the had been anything but since Mrs. Kirkpatrick had had it. It was very much to her that she herself from to purchasing wedding finery. But it was one of the points to be in Mrs. Kirkpatrick that she had always been in payment to the shops where she dealt; it was a little of out. Whatever other might from her and character, she was always till she was out of debt. Yet she had no in her husband's money to her own use, when it was that it was not to be as he intended. What new articles she for herself, were all such as would make a show, and an upon the ladies of Hollingford. She with herself that linen, and all under-clothing, would be seen; while she that every she had, would give to much discussion, and would be up in the little town.
So her stock of was very small, and any of it new; but it was of material, and was up by her fingers, many a night long after her were in bed; all the time she sewed, that some one else should do her plain-work. Indeed, many a little of to the will of others rose up her these hours, as an or a to again. So are people to look to a different of life from that to which they have been accustomed, as being free from and trial! She how, one time this very at the Towers, after she was to Mr. Gibson, when she had taken above an hour to her in some new mode from Mrs. Bradley's fashion-book—after all, when she came down, looking her very best, as she thought, and for her lover, Lady Cumnor had sent her again to her room, just as if she had been a little child, to do her over again, and not to make such a of fun of herself! Another time she had been sent to her for one in her opinion less becoming, but which Lady Cumnor's taste better. These were little things; but they were late of what in different she had had to for many years; and her for Mr. Gibson in to her of the from which he was going to as a means of escape. After all, that of and plain-sewing, though it was with tuition, was not disagreeable. Her wedding-dress was secure. Her at the Towers were going to present her with that; they were to dress her from to on the day. Lord Cumnor, as has been said, had her a hundred for her trousseau, and had sent Mr. Preston a carte-blanche order for the wedding-breakfast in the old in Ashcombe Manor-house. Lady Cumnor—a little put out by the marriage not being till her grandchildren's Christmas holidays—had Mrs. Kirkpatrick an excellent English-made watch and chain; more but more than the little that had at her so long, and her so often.
Her were thus in a very of forwardness, while Mr. Gibson had done nothing as yet any new or of his house for his bride. He he ought to do something. But what? Where to begin, when so much was out of order, and he had so little time for superintendence? At length he came to the wise of one of the Miss Brownings, for old friendship's sake, to take the trouble of preparing what was requisite; and to all the more that he proposed, to the taste of his wife. But making his to the Miss Brownings, he had to tell them of his engagement, which had been a from the townspeople, who had set his visits at the Towers to the score of the countess's health. He how he should have laughed in his at any middle-aged who came to him with a of the he had now to make to Miss Brownings, and the idea of the necessary call: but it was to be done, so one he in "promiscuous," as they called it, and told them his story. At the end of the chapter—that is to say, at the end of the of Mr. Coxe's calf-love, Miss Browning up her hands in surprise.
"To think of Molly, as I have in long-clothes, to have a lover! Well, to be sure! Sister Phœbe—" (she was just into the room), "here's a piece of news! Molly Gibson has got a lover! One may almost say she's had an offer! Mr. Gibson, may not one?—and she's but sixteen!"
"Seventeen, sister," said Miss Phœbe, who herself on all about dear Mr. Gibson's affairs. "Seventeen, the 22nd of last June."
"Well, have it your own way. Seventeen, if you like to call her so!" said Miss Browning, impatiently. "The is still the same—she's got a lover; and it to me she was in long-clothes only yesterday."
"I'm sure I her of true love will smooth," said Miss Phœbe.
Now Mr. Gibson came in; for his was not told, and he did not want them to away too with the idea of Molly's love-affair.
"Molly nothing about it. I haven't named it to any one but you two, and to one other friend. I Coxe well, and did my best to keep his attachment—as he calls it—in bounds. But I was sadly puzzled what to do about Molly. Miss Eyre was away, and I couldn't them in the house together without any older woman."
"Oh, Mr. Gibson! why did you not send her to us?" in Miss Browning. "We would have done anything in our power for you; for your sake, as well as her dear mother's."
"Thank you. I know you would, but it wouldn't have done to have had her in Hollingford, just at the time of Coxe's effervescence. He's now. His has come with force, after the he it right to exhibit. He had three helpings of black-currant yesterday."
"I am sure you are most liberal, Mr. Gibson. Three helpings! And, I daresay, butcher's meat in proportion?"
"Oh! I only named it because, with such very men, it's see-saw and love, and I the third helping a very good sign. But still, you know, what has once, may again."
"I don't know. Phœbe had an offer of marriage once—" said Miss Browning.
"Hush! sister. It might his to have it spoken about."
"Nonsense, child! It's five-and-twenty years ago; and his is married herself."
"I own he has not been constant," Miss Phœbe, in her tender, voice. "All men are not—like you, Mr. Gibson—faithful to the memory of their first-love."
Mr. Gibson winced. Jeannie was his love; but her name had been in Hollingford. His wife—good, pretty, sensible, and as she had been—was not his second; no, his third love. And now he was come to make a about his second marriage.
"Well, well," said he; "at any rate, I I must do something to protect Molly from such while she was so young, and I had my sanction. Miss Eyre's little nephew of fever—"
"Ah! by-the-by, how careless of me not to inquire. How is the little fellow?"
"Worse—better. It doesn't to what I've got to say now; the was, Miss Eyre couldn't come to my house for some time, and I cannot Molly at Hamley."
"Ah! I see now, why there was that visit to Hamley. Upon my word, it's a romance."
"I do like of a love-affair," Miss Phœbe.
"Then if you'll let me on with my story, you shall of mine," said Mr. Gibson, his patience with their interruptions.
"Yours!" said Miss Phœbe, faintly.
"Bless us and save us!" said Miss Browning, with less in her tone; "what next?"
"My marriage, I hope," said Mr. Gibson, to take her of literally. "And that's what I came to speak to you about."
A little up in Miss Phœbe's breast. She had often said to her sister, in the of curling-time (ladies in those days), "that the only man who her to think of was Mr. Gibson; but that if he proposed, she should to accept him, for dear Mary's sake;" what exact of she she should give to her friend by marrying her late husband. Phœbe played with the of her black apron. Like the Caliph in the Eastern story, a whole lifetime of possibilities passed through her mind in an instant, of which possibilities the question of questions was, Could she her sister? Attend, Phœbe, to the present moment, and to what is being said you with a which will arise.
"Of it has been an thing for me to decide who I should ask to be the of my family, the mother of my girl; but I think I've at last. The lady I have chosen—"
"Tell us at once who she is, there's a good man," said straight-forward Miss Browning.
"Mrs. Kirkpatrick," said the elect.
"What! the at the Towers, that the makes so much of?"
"Yes; she is much valued by them—and so. She a now at Ashcombe, and is to housekeeping. She has up the ladies at the Towers, and has a of her own, therefore it is she will have a kind, Molly."
"She's a very elegant-looking woman," said Miss Phœbe, it upon her to say something laudatory, by way of the that had just been through her mind. "I've her in the carriage, with the countess: a very woman, I should say."
"Nonsense, sister," said Miss Browning. "What has her or to do with the affair? Did you know a again for such as those? It's always from a of of one or another—isn't it, Mr. Gibson? They want a housekeeper; or they want a mother for their children; or they think their last wife would have liked it."
Perhaps the had passed through the sister's mind that Phœbe might have been chosen, for there was a in her tone; not to Mr. Gibson, but with which he did not choose to at this present moment.
"You must have it your own way, Miss Browning. Settle my for me. I don't to be clear about them myself. But I am clear in to keep my old friends, and for them to love my wife for my sake. I don't know any two in the world, Molly and Mrs. Kirkpatrick, I as much as I do you. Besides, I want to ask you if you will let Molly come and with you till after my marriage?"
"You might have asked us you asked Madam Hamley," said Miss Browning, only mollified. "We are your old friends; and we were her mother's friends, too; though we are not folk."
"That's unjust," said Mr. Gibson. "And you know it is."
"I don't know. You are always with Lord Hollingford, when you can at him, much more than you are with Mr. Goodenough, or Mr. Smith. And you are always going over to Hamley."
Miss Browning was not one to give in all at once.
"I Lord Hollingford as I should such a man, his rank or position might be: to a school, carpenter, shoemaker, if it were possible for them to have had a of mind by advantages. Mr. Goodenough is a very attorney, with local and not a beyond."
"Well, well, don't go on arguing, it always me a headache, as Phœbe knows. I didn't what I said, that's enough, isn't it? I'll anything sooner than be with. Where were we you your arguments?"
"About dear little Molly to pay us a visit," said Miss Phœbe.
"I should have asked you at first, only Coxe was so with his love. I didn't know what he might do, or how he might be to Molly and you. But he has now. Absence has had a very effect, and I think Molly may be in the same town with him, without any a every time she's to his mind by meeting her. And I've got another to ask of you, so you see it would do for me to argue with you, Miss Browning, when I ought to be a suppliant. Something must be done to the house to make it all for the Mrs. Gibson. It wants painting and shamefully, and I should think some new furniture, but I'm sure I don't know what. Would you be so very as to look over the place, and see how a hundred will go? The dining-room must be painted; we'll keep the drawing-room paper for her choice, and I've a little money for that room for her to out; but all the of the house I'll to you, if you'll only be to help an old friend."
This was a which Miss Browning's love of power. The of money of people, such as she had in her father's lifetime, but had had very little of since his death. Her good-humour was by this proof of in her taste and economy, while Miss Phœbe's on the of a visit from Molly.
