MOLLY GIBSON'S NEW FRIENDS.
Time was on; it was now the middle of August,—if anything was to be done to the house, it must be done at once. Indeed, in Mr. Gibson's with Miss Browning had not been too soon. The had that Osborne might return home for a days going abroad; and, though the Roger and Molly did not him in the least, yet he was by a very panic the might take a to the surgeon's daughter; and he was in such a for her to the house Osborne came home, that his wife in terror he should make it too to their visitor.
Every girl of seventeen or so, who is at all thoughtful, is very to make a Pope out of the person who presents to her a new or larger of than that by which she has been hitherto. Such a Pope was Roger to Molly; she looked to his opinion, to his authority on almost every subject, yet he had only said one or two in a manner which gave them the of precepts—stable to her conduct—and had the natural in and knowledge which is sure to a man of no common intelligence, and an girl of seventeen, who yet was well of appreciation. Still, although they were together in this very relationship, each was some one very different for the owner of their whole heart—their and love. Roger looked to a woman, his equal, and his empress; in person, in wisdom, for counsel, as was Egeria. Molly's little on the Osborne, who was now a troubadour, and now a knight, such as he about in one of his own poems; some one like Osborne, perhaps, than Osborne himself, for she from a personal and name to the hero that was to be. The was not in her well out of the house Osborne came home, if he was her peace of mind. Yet, when she away from the he missed her constantly; it had been so to have her there all the offices of a daughter; the meals, so often tête-à-tête him and Roger, with her wise questions, her in their talk, her to his banter.
And Roger missed her too. Sometimes her had into his mind, and him to the in which he delighted; at other times he had himself of help to her in her hours of need, and in making her take an in books, which of higher than the and which she had read. He something like an of his most promising pupil; he how she would go on without him; she would be puzzled and by the books he had her to read; how she and her would along together? She his a good those days after she left the hall. Mrs. Hamley her more, and longer than did the other two. She had her the place of a in her heart; and now she missed the sweet companionship, the caresses, the never-ceasing attentions; the very need of in her sorrows, that Molly had so openly from time to time; all these had her to the tender-hearted Mrs. Hamley.
Molly, too, the of keenly; and she herself for so more still. But she not help having a of refinement, which had her the whole manner of being at the Hall. By her dear old friends the Miss Brownings she was and so much that she of noticing the and louder in which they spoke, the of their pronunciation, the of in things, and their of about persons. They asked her questions which she was puzzled to answer about her stepmother; her to her father her to reply and truthfully. She was always when they to make as to every possible at the Hall. She had been so happy there; she had liked them all, to the very dogs, so thoroughly, that it was easy work replying: she did not mind telling them everything, to the of Mrs. Hamley's dress; what the at dinner. Indeed, talking about these helped her to the time in her life. But one evening, as they were all together after tea in the little drawing-room, looking into the High Street—Molly away on the of Hamley Hall, and just then telling of all Roger's in natural science, and some of the he had her, she was up by this little speech,—
"You to have a great of Mr. Roger, Molly!" said Miss Browning, in a way to a great of meaning to her sister and none at all to Molly. But—
The man of the bite;
The dog it was that died.
Molly was perfectly aware of Miss Browning's tone, though at she was as to its cause; while Miss Phœbe was just then too much in the of her to be alive to her sister's and winks.
"Yes; he was very to me," said Molly, slowly, over Miss Browning's manner, and to say more until she had satisfied herself to what the question tended.
"I you will soon be going to Hamley Hall again? He's not the son, you know, Phœbe! Don't make my with your 'eighteen, nineteen,' but to the conversation. Molly is telling us how much she saw of Mr. Roger, and how he was to her. I've always he was a very man, my dear. Tell us some more about him! Now, Phœbe, attend! How was he to you, Molly?"
"Oh, he told me what books to read; and one day he me notice how many I saw—"
"Bees, child! What do you mean? Either you or he must have been crazy!"
"No, not at all. There are more than two hundred of in England, and he wanted me to notice the them and flies. Miss Browning, I can't help what you fancy," said Molly, as red as fire, "but it is very wrong; it is all a mistake. I won't speak another word about Mr. Roger or Hamley at all, if it puts such into your head."
"Highty-tighty! Here's a lady to be her elders! Silly indeed! They are in your head, it seems. And let me tell you, Molly, you are too to let your mind be on lovers."
Molly had been once or twice called saucy and impertinent, and a little came out now.
"I said what the 'silly notion' was, Miss Browning; did I now, Miss Phœbe? Don't you see, dear Miss Phœbe, it is all her own interpretation, and according to her own fancy, this talk about lovers?"
Molly was with indignation; but she had to the person for justice. Miss Phœbe to make peace after the fashion of weak-minded people, who would over the of a sore, of trying to it.
"I'm sure I don't know anything about it, my dear. It to me that what Dorothy was saying was very true—very true indeed; and I think, love, you her; or, perhaps, she you; or I may be it altogether; so we'd not talk any more about it. What price did you say you were going to give for the in Mr. Gibson's dining-room, sister?"
So Miss Browning and Molly on till evening, each and angry with the other. They each other good-night, going through the in the manner possible. Molly up to her little bedroom, clean and as a be, with of small patchwork—bed-curtains, window-curtains, and counterpane; a toilette-table, full of little boxes, with a small looking-glass to it, that every that was so as to look in it. This room had been to the child one of the most and places seen, in with her own bare, white-dimity bedroom; and now she was sleeping in it, as a guest, and all the she had once at as a great favour, as they were up in cap-paper, were set out for her use. And yet how little she had this care; how she had been; how she had since! She was of and when there came a low to the door. Molly opened it, and there Miss Browning, in a of a nightcap, and in a jacket over her and white petticoat.
"I was you were asleep, child," said she, in and the door. "But I wanted to say to you we've got to-day, somehow; and I think it was my doing. It's as well Phœbe shouldn't know, for she thinks me perfect; and when there's only two of us, we along if one of us thinks the other can do no wrong. But I think I was a little cross. We'll not say any more about it, Molly; only we'll go to sleep friends,—and friends we'll always be, child, won't we? Now give me a kiss, and don't and your up;—and put out your carefully."
"I was wrong—it was my fault," said Molly, her.
"Fiddlestick-ends! Don't me! I say it was my fault, and I won't another word about it."
The next day Molly with Miss Browning to see the going on in her father's house. To her they were but improvements. The of the dining-room walls, which had well with the of the curtains, and which when well looked than dirty, was now for a pink salmon-colour of a very hue; and the new were of that sea-green just into fashion. "Very and pretty," Miss Browning called it; and in the of their love Molly not to her. She only that the green and would the and prettiness. There was here, there, and Betty everywhere.
"Come up now, and see your papa's bedroom. He's sleeping in yours, that may be done up in his."
Molly just remember, in clear lines of distinctness, the being taken into this very room to to her mother. She see the white linen, the white muslin, the pale, face, with the large, eyes, for one more touch of the little soft warm child, she was too to in her arms, already in death. Many a time when Molly had been in this room since that sad day, had she in that same on the pillow, the of the the clothes; and the girl had not from such visions, but them, as to her the of her mother's semblance. Her were full of tears, as she Miss Browning into this room to see it under its new aspect. Nearly was changed—the position of the and the colour of the furniture; there was a toilette-table now, with a upon it, of the of the top of a of drawers, with a above upon the wall, downwards; these had her mother her married life.
"You see, we must have all in order for a lady who has passed so much of her time in the countess's mansion," said Miss Browning, who was now to the marriage, thanks to the of that had upon her in consequence. "Cromer, the upholsterer, wanted to me to have a sofa and a writing-table. These men will say anything is the fashion, if they want to sell an article. I said, 'No, no, Cromer: are for sleeping in, and sitting-rooms are for in. Keep to its right purpose, and don't try and me into nonsense.' Why, my mother would have us a if she had us in our in the daytime. We our out-door in a downstairs; and there was a very tidy place for our hands, which is as much as one wants in the daytime. Stuffing up a with and tables! I of such a thing. Besides, a hundred won't last for ever. I sha'n't be able to do anything for your room, Molly!"
"I'm right of it," said Molly. "Nearly in it was what had when she with my great-uncle. I wouldn't have had it for the world; I am so of it."
"Well, there's no of it, now the money is out. By the way, Molly, who's to you a bridesmaid's dress?"
"I don't know," said Molly; "I I am to be a bridesmaid; but no one has spoken to me about my dress."
"Then I shall ask your papa."
"Please, don't. He must have to a great of money just now. Besides, I would not be at the wedding, if they'll let me away."
"Nonsense, child. Why, all the town would be talking of it. You must go, and you must be well dressed, for your father's sake."
But Mr. Gibson had of Molly's dress, although he had said nothing about it to her. He had his wife to her what was requisite; and presently a very came over from the county-town to try on a dress, which was so and so as at once to Molly. When it came home all to put on, Molly had a private dressing-up for the Miss Brownings' benefit; and she was almost when she looked into the glass, and saw the in her appearance. "I wonder if I'm pretty," she. "I almost think I am—in this of dress I mean, of course. Betty would say, 'Fine make birds.'"
When she in her attire, and with presented herself for inspection, she was with a of admiration.
"Well, upon my word! I shouldn't have you." ("Fine feathers," Molly, and her vanity.)
"You are beautiful—isn't she, sister?" said Miss Phœbe. "Why, my dear, if you were always dressed, you would be than your dear mamma, we always so very personable."
"You're not a like her. You your father, and white always sets off a complexion."
"But isn't she beautiful?" Miss Phœbe.
"Well! and if she is, Providence her, and not she herself. Besides, the must go shares. What a India it is! it'll have cost a penny!"
Mr. Gibson and Molly over to Ashcombe, the night the wedding, in the one yellow post-chaise that Hollingford possessed. They were to be Mr. Preston's, or, rather, my lord's guests at the Manor-house. The Manor-house came up to its name, and Molly at sight. It was of stone, had many and windows, and was over with Virginian and late-blowing roses. Molly did not know Mr. Preston, who in the to her father. She took with him as a lady at once, and it was the time she had met with the of behaviour—half complimentary, flirting—which some men think it necessary to assume with every woman under five-and-twenty. Mr. Preston was very handsome, and it. He was a man, with light-brown and whiskers; grey, roving, well-shaped eyes, with than his hair; and a easy and by the in which his was famous, and which had him into much higher than he was otherwise to enter. He was a cricketer; was so good a shot, that any house of for its on the 12th or the 1st, was to have him for a guest. He ladies to play on a wet day, or in for the game in when required. He the private plays off by heart, and was in and tableaux. He had his own private for to up a with Molly just at this time; he had himself so much with the when she came to Ashcombe, that he that the of him, by her less polished, less handsome, middle-aged husband, might be too much of a to be agreeable. Besides, he had a for some one else; some one who would be absent; and that it was necessary for him to conceal. So that, altogether, he had resolved, had "the little Gibson-girl" (as he called her) been less than she was, to himself to her for the next sixteen hours.
They were taken by their into a parlour, where a fire and burnt, and the out the day and the chill. Here the table was for dinner; table-linen, silver, clear glass, and an on the sideboard. Yet Mr. Preston to Molly for the of his home, for the smallness of the room, the great dining-room being already by his housekeeper, in for the morrow's breakfast. And then he for a to Molly to her room. She was taken into a most chamber; a fire on the hearth, on the toilette-table, dark a snow-white bed, great of here and there.
"This is my Lady Harriet's room when her comes to the Manor-house with my lord the earl," said the housemaid, out thousands of by a well-directed at a log. "Shall I help you to dress, miss? I always helps her ladyship."
Molly, aware of the that she had but her white for the wedding that she had on, the good woman, and was to be left to herself.
"Dinner" was it called? Why, it was nearly eight o'clock; and for a more natural than at this hour of night. All the she manage was the of a red rose or two in the of her gown, there being a great of choice flowers on the toilette-table. She did try the of another rose in her black hair, just above her ear; it was very pretty, but too coquettish, and so she put it again. The dark-oak panels and of the whole house to in warm light; there were so many in different rooms, in the hall, and one on the landing of the staircase. Mr. Preston must have her step, for he met her in the hall, and her into a small drawing-room, with closed folding-doors on one side, opening into the larger drawing-room, as he told her. This room into which she entered her a little of Hamley—yellow-satin of seventy or a hundred years ago, all and clean; great Indian cabinets, and jars, odours; a large fire, which her father in his dress, and thoughtful, as he had been all day.
"This room is that which Lady Harriet when she comes here with her father for a day or two," said Mr. Preston. And Molly to save her father by being to talk herself.
"Does she often come here?"
"Not often. But I she being here when she does. Perhaps she it an after the more life she leads at the Towers."
"I should think it was a very house to at," said Molly, the look of warm that it. But a little to her Mr. Preston to take it as a to himself.
"I was a lady like you might all the of a bachelor's home. I'm very much to you, Miss Gibson. In I live much in the room in which we shall dine; and I've a of agent's office in which I keep books and papers, and on business."
Then they in to dinner. Molly that was was delicious, and to the point of perfection; but they did not to satisfy Mr. Preston, who to his guests times for the cooking of this dish, or the of a particular sauce to that; always to bachelor's housekeeping, bachelor's this and bachelor's that, till Molly at the word. Her father's depression, which was still and him very silent, her uneasy; yet she to it from Mr. Preston; and so she talked away, trying to the of personal which their would give to everything. She did not know when to the gentlemen, but her father a to her; and she was to the yellow drawing-room by Mr. Preston, who many for her there alone. She herself extremely, however, at to about, and all the the room contained. Among other was a Louis Quinze cabinet with in let into the woodwork. She a to it, and was looking at these when her father and Mr. Preston came in. Her father still looked care-worn and anxious; he came up and her on the back, looked at what she was looking at, and then off to and the fire. Mr. Preston took the out of her hand, and himself into her with an air of gallantry.
"That is said to be Mademoiselle de St. Quentin, a great at the French Court. This is Madame du Barri. Do you see any in Mademoiselle de St. Quentin to any one you know?" He had his voice a little as he asked this question.
"No!" said Molly, looking at it again. "I saw any one so beautiful."
"But don't you see a likeness—in the particularly?" he asked again, with some impatience.
Molly hard to out a resemblance, and was again unsuccessful.
"It me of—of Miss Kirkpatrick."
"Does it?" said Molly, eagerly. "Oh! I am so glad—I've her, so of I couldn't out the likeness. You know her, then, do you? Please tell me all about her."
He a moment speaking. He a little replying.
"She's very beautiful; that of is when I say that this not come up to her for beauty."
"And besides?—Go on, please."
"What do you by 'besides'?"
"Oh! I she's very and accomplished?"
That was not in the least what Molly wanted to ask; but it was difficult to word the of her inquiry.
"She is naturally; she has up accomplishments. But she has such a about her, one what she herself is in the that her. You ask me all this, Miss Gibson, and I answer truthfully; or else I should not one lady with my of another."
"I don't see why not," said Molly. "Besides, if you wouldn't do it in general, I think you ought to do it in my case; for you, perhaps, don't know, but she is to live with us when she school, and we are very nearly the same age; so it will be almost like having a sister."
"She is to live with you, is she?" said Mr. Preston, to this was news. "And when is she to school? I she would surely have been at this wedding; but I was told she was not to come. When is she to school?"
"I think it is to be at Easter. You know she's at Boulogne, and it's a long for her to come alone; or else papa for her to be at the marriage very much indeed."
"And her mother it?—I understand."
"No, it wasn't her mother; it was the French schoolmistress, who didn't think it desirable."
"It comes to much the same thing. And she's to return and live with you after Easter?"
"I so. Is she a or a person?"
"Never very grave, as as I have of her. Sparkling would be the word for her, I think. Do you to her? If you do, pray me to her, and tell her how we have been talking about her—you and I."
"I to her," said Molly, shortly.
Tea came in; and after that they all to bed. Molly her father at the fire in his bedroom, and Mr. Preston's reply—
"I myself on my for all comforts, and also on my power of doing without them, if need be. My lord's are ample, and I myself with a fire in my for nine months in the year; yet I travel in Iceland without from the cold."
