THE BRIDE AT HOME.
Among the "county people" (as Mrs. Gibson them) who called upon her as a bride, were the two Mr. Hamleys. The Squire, their father, had done his congratulations, as as he to do them, to Mr. Gibson himself when he came to the hall; but Mrs. Hamley, unable to go and pay visits herself, to attention to her doctor's new wife, and with a little as to how Molly and her got on together, her sons over to Hollingford with her cards and apologies. They came into the newly-furnished drawing-room, looking and fresh from their ride: Osborne first, as usual, perfectly for the occasion, and with the of manner which so well upon him; Roger, looking like a strong-built, cheerful, country farmer, in his brother's train. Mrs. Gibson was for callers, and the she always to produce, of a very woman, no longer in youth, but with such soft manners and such a voice, that people to wonder what her age might be. Molly was than formerly; her saw after that. She anything old or shabby, or out of taste about her; it her eye; and she had already Molly into a new amount of about the manner in which she put on her clothes, her hair, and was and shod. Mrs. Gibson had to put her through a of and in order to her complexion; but about that Molly was either or rebellious, and Mrs. Gibson not well come up to the girl's every night and see that she her and over with the so provided for her. Still her was improved, to Osborne's eye. Roger to in her looks and she was happy or not; his mother had him to note all these signs.
Osborne and Mrs. Gibson themselves to each other according to the fashion when a man calls on a middle-aged bride. They talked of the "Shakspeare and glasses" of the day, each with the other in their knowledge of London topics. Molly of their in the of Roger and herself. Her hero was out in a new character; no longer or poetical, or romantic, or critical, he was now full of the last new play, the singers at the opera. He had the over Mrs. Gibson, who, in fact, only spoke of these from hearsay, from to the talk at the Towers, while Osborne had up from Cambridge two or three times to this, or to see that wonder of the season. But she had the over him in of to out her facts; and she had more skill in the choice and of her words, so as to make it appear as if the opinions that were in quotations, were by herself from or personal observation; such as, in speaking of the of a famous Italian singer, she would ask,—
Shakspeare and the Musical Glasses.
Shakspeare and the Musical Glasses.
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"Did you her of her and her hands together she took a high note?"—which was so said as to that Mrs. Gibson herself had noticed this trick. Molly, who had a good idea by this time of how her had passed the last year of her life, with no small to this conversation; but at length that she must what they were saying, as she not up the missing for the of to Roger's questions and remarks. Osborne was not the same Osborne he was when with his mother at the Hall.
Roger saw Molly at his brother.
"You think my looking ill?" said he, his voice.
"No—not exactly."
"He is not well. Both my father and I are about him. That on the Continent did him harm, of good; and his at his has told upon him, I'm afraid."
"I was not he looked ill; only somehow."
"He says he must go to Cambridge soon. Possibly it may do him good; and I shall be off next week. This is a visit to you, as well as one of to Mrs. Gibson."
"Your mother will your going away, won't she? But of men will always have to live away from home."
"Yes," he replied. "Still she it a good deal; and I'm not satisfied about her health either. You will go out and see her sometimes, will you? she is very of you."
"If I may," said Molly, at her stepmother. She had an that, in of Mrs. Gibson's own of words, she could, and did, that from Molly's lips.
"Do you want any more books?" said he. "If you do, make a list out, and send it to my mother I leave, next Tuesday. After I am gone, there will be no one to go into the library and them out."
As soon as they had left, Mrs. Gibson her on the visitors.
"I do like that Osborne Hamley! What a he is! Somehow, I always do like sons. He will have the estate, won't he? I shall ask your dear papa to him to come about the house. He will be a very good, very for you and Cynthia. The other is but a fellow, to my mind; there is no about him. I he takes after his mother, who is but a parvenue, I've them say at the Towers."
Molly was to have great in saying,—
"I think I've her father was a Russian merchant, and and hemp. Mr. Osborne Hamley is like her."
"Indeed! But there's no calculating these things. Anyhow, he is the perfect in and manner. The is entailed, is it not?"
"I know nothing about it," said Molly.
A ensued. Then Mrs. Gibson said,—
"Do you know, I almost think I must dear papa to give a little dinner-party, and ask Mr. Osborne Hamley? I should like to have him at home in this house. It would be something for him after the and of Hamley Hall. For the old people don't visit much, I believe?"
"He's going to Cambridge next week," said Molly.
"Is he? Well, then, we'll put off our little dinner till Cynthia comes home. I should like to have some for her, darling, when she returns."
"When is she coming?" said Molly, who had always a for this same Cynthia's return.
"Oh! I'm not sure; at the new year—perhaps not till Easter. I must this drawing-room all new first; and then I to fit up her room and yours just alike. They are just the same size, only on opposite of the passage."
"Are you going to new-furnish that room?" said Molly, in at the never-ending changes.
"Yes; and yours, too, darling; so don't be jealous."
"Oh, please, mamma, not mine," said Molly, taking in the idea for the time.
"Yes, dear! You shall have yours done as well. A little French bed, and a new paper, and a carpet, and a dressed-up toilet-table and glass, will make it look a different place."
"But I don't want it to look different. I like it as it is. Pray don't do anything to it."
"What nonsense, child! I anything more ridiculous! Most girls would be to of only fit for the lumber-room."
"It was my own mamma's she was married," said Molly, in a very low voice; out this last unwillingly, but with a that it would not be resisted.
Mrs. Gibson paused for a moment she replied:
"It's very much to your that you should have such feelings, I'm sure. But don't you think may be too far? Why, we should have no new at all, and should have to put up with worm-eaten horrors. Besides, my dear, Hollingford will very to Cynthia, after pretty, France, and I want to make the attractive. I've a I can settle her near here; and I want her to come in a good temper; for, ourselves, my dear, she is a little, wilful. You need not mention this to your papa."
"But can't you do Cynthia's room, and not mine? Please let mine alone."
"No, indeed! I couldn't agree to that. Only think what would be said of me by everybody; my own child and my husband's! I couldn't it."
"No one need know."
"In such a tittle-tattle place as Hollingford! Really, Molly, you are either very or very obstinate, or else you don't what hard may be said about me: and all for a selfish of your own! No! I myself the of acting in this as I please. Every one shall know I'm not a common stepmother. Every I on Cynthia I shall on you too; so it's no use talking any more about it."
So Molly's little white bed, her old-fashioned of drawers, and her other of her mother's maiden-days, were to the lumber-room; and after a while, when Cynthia and her great French boxes had come home, the old that had up the space for the fresh of trunks, into the same room.
All this time the family at the Towers had been absent; Lady Cumnor had been ordered to Bath for the early part of the winter, and her family were with her there. On rainy days, Mrs. Gibson used to her of missing "the Cumnors," for so she had taken to calling them since her position had more of theirs. It marked a her in the family, and the manner in which the were to speak of "the and the countess." Both Lady Cumnor and Lady Harriet to their "dear Clare" from time to time. The had some that she to have at the Towers, or in the town; and no one do them so well as Clare, who was with all the tastes and of the countess. These were the of for and from the George Inn. Mr. Gibson pointed out this to his wife; but she, in return, him that a present of game was sure to upon the satisfactory of Lady Cumnor's wishes. Somehow, Mr. Gibson did not like this either; but he was about it, at any rate. Lady Harriet's were and amusing. She had that of for her old which her to from time to time, and to when the half-voluntary was accomplished. So there was no of confidence, but news of the family and of the place she was in, as she would make Clare that she was not by her pupils, with but of regard. How those were and to by Mrs. Gibson in her with the Hollingford ladies! She had out their at Ashcombe; and it was not less at Hollingford. But she was at to Molly, and at as to how the Miss Brownings liked the tea she had sent; and Molly had to explain, and then to at full length, all the of the at Ashcombe Manor-house, and Lady Harriet's call upon her at Miss Brownings'.
"What nonsense!" said Mrs. Gibson, with some annoyance. "Lady Harriet only to see you out of a of amusement. She would only make fun of Miss Brownings, and those two will be her and talking about her, just as if she was their friend."
"I don't think she did make fun of them. She as if she had been very kind."
"And you you know her than I do who have her these fifteen years? I tell you she every one into who not to her set. Why, she used always to speak of Miss Brownings as 'Pecksy and Flapsy.'"
"She promised me she would not," said Molly to bay.
"Promised you!—Lady Harriet? What do you mean?"
"Only—she spoke of them as Pecksy and Flapsy—and when she talked of to call on me at their house, I asked her not to come if she was going to—to make fun of them."
"Upon my word! with all my long with Lady Harriet, I should have on such impertinence."
"I didn't it as impertinence," said Molly sturdily. "And I don't think Lady Harriet took it as such."
"You can't know anything about it. She can put on any of manner."
Just then Squire Hamley came in. It was his call; and Mrs. Gibson gave him a welcome, and was to accept his for its tardiness, and to him that she the pressure of on every land-owner who his own estate. But no such was made. He her hand heartily, as a mark of on her good in having such a prize as his friend Gibson, but said nothing about his long neglect of duty. Molly, who by this time the of his well, was sure that something was the matter, and that he was very much disturbed. He to Mrs. Gibson's opening of conversation, for she had already to make a on the father of the man who was to an estate, his own personal agreeableness; but he to Molly and, her, said—almost in a low voice, as if he was making a to her that he did not Mrs. Gibson to hear,—
"Molly, we are all at home! Osborne has the at Trinity he to try for. Then he has gone and failed in his degree, after all that he said, and that his mother said; and I, like a fool, and about my son. I can't it. I anything from Roger; but Osborne—! And then it has into one of her of illness; and she to have a for you, child! Your father came to see her this morning. Poor thing, she's very poorly, I'm afraid; and she told him how she should like to have you about her, and he said I might you. You'll come, won't you, my dear? She's not a woman, such as many people think it's the only to be to, but she's just as of woman's as if she was poor—worse, I daresay."
"I'll be in ten minutes," said Molly, much touched by the squire's and manner, of her stepmother's consent, now that she had that her father had his. As she rose to the room, Mrs. Gibson, who had only what the Squire had said, and was a little at the of his confidence, said,—"My dear, where are you going?"
"Mrs. Hamley wants me, and papa says I may go," said Molly; and almost at the same time the Squire replied,—
"My wife is ill, and as she's very of your daughter, she Mr. Gibson to allow her to come to the Hall for a little while, and he said she might, and I'm come to her."
"Stop a minute, darling," said Mrs. Gibson to Molly—a cloud over her countenance, in of her word. "I am sure dear papa that you were to go out with me to-night, to visit people," she, herself to the Squire, "with I am unacquainted—and it is very if Mr. Gibson can return in time to me—so, you see, I cannot allow Molly to go with you."
"I shouldn't have it would have signified. Brides are always brides, I suppose; and it's their part to be timid; but I shouldn't have it—in this case. And my wife sets her on things, as people do. Well, Molly" (in a louder tone, for these were spoken voce), "we must put it off till to-morrow: and it's our loss, not yours," he continued, as he saw the with which she slowly returned to her place. "You'll be as as can be to-night, I daresay—"
"No, I shall not," in Molly. "I wanted to go, and now I shall want it less than ever."
"Hush, my dear," said Mrs. Gibson; and, the Squire, she added, "The visiting here is not all one wish for so a girl—no people, no dances, nothing of gaiety; but it is in you, Molly, to speak against such friends of your father's as I these Cockerells are. Don't give so an of to the Squire."
"Let her alone! let her alone!" he. "I see what she means. She'd come and be in my wife's sick-room than go out for this visit to-night. Is there no way of her off?"
"None whatever," said Mrs. Gibson. "An is an with me; and I that she is not only to Mrs. Cockerell, but to me—bound to me, in my husband's absence."
The Squire was put out; and when he was put out he had a of his hands on his and to himself. Molly this phase of his displeasure, and only he would himself to this of annoyance. It was hard work for her to keep the out of her eyes; and she to think of something else, than on and annoyances. She Mrs. Gibson talking on in a sweet monotone, and to to what she was saying, but the Squire's visible on her mind. At length, after a pause of silence, he started up, and said,—
"Well! it's no use. Poor madam; she won't like it. She'll be disappointed! But it's but for one evening!—but for one evening! She may come to-morrow, mayn't she? Or will the of such an as she describes, be too much for her?"
There was a touch of in his manner which Mrs. Gibson into good behaviour.
"She shall be at any time you name. I am so sorry: my is in fault, I believe; but still you must that an is an engagement."
"Did I say an was an elephant, madam? However, there's no use saying any more about it, or I shall my manners. I'm an old tyrant, and she—lying there in bed, girl—has always me my own way. So you'll me, Mrs. Gibson, won't you; and let Molly come along with me at ten to-morrow morning?"
"Certainly," said Mrs. Gibson, smiling. But when his was turned, she said to Molly,—
"Now, my dear, I must have you me to the ill-manners of such a man again! I don't call him a squire; I call him a boor, or a at best. You must not go on or as if you were an lady, Molly. Pay me the respect of a to my another time, if you please, my dear!"
"Papa had said I might go," said Molly, a little.
"As I am now your mamma, your must be to me, for the future. But as you are to go you may as well look well dressed. I will you my new for this visit, if you like it, and my set of green ribbons. I am always when proper respect is paid to me. And in such a house as Hamley Hall, no one can tell who may be and going, if there is in the family."
"Thank you. But I don't want the and the ribbons, please: there will be nobody there the family. There is, I think; and now that she is so ill"—Molly was on the point of at the of her friend and lonely, and looking for her arrival. Moreover, she was sadly the Squire had gone off with the idea that she did not want to come—that she that stupid, party at the Cockerells'. Mrs. Gibson, too, was sorry; she had an of having way to a stranger, and a stranger, too, good opinion she had meant to cultivate; and she was also at Molly's face.
"What can I do for you, to you into good temper?" she said. "First, you upon your Lady Harriet than I do—I, who have her for eighteen or years at least. Then you jump at without me, or of how it would be for me to go into a drawing-room all by myself; my new name, too, which always makes me uncomfortable, it is such a sad come-down after Kirkpatrick! And then, when I offer you some of the I have got, you say it not how you are dressed. What can I do to you, Molly? I, who in nothing more than peace in a family, to see you there with upon your face?"
Molly it no longer; she to her own room—her own new room, which yet a familiar place; and to so and for so long a time, that she stopped at length for very weariness. She of Mrs. Hamley for her; of the old Hall very might to an person; of the trust the Squire had had in her that she would come off directly with him. And all this her much more than the of her stepmother's words.
