MRS. GIBSON'S VISITORS.
One day, to Molly's surprise, Mr. Preston was as a caller. Mrs. Gibson and she were together in the drawing-room; Cynthia was out—gone into the town a-shopping—when the door was opened, the name given, and in walked the man. His entrance to more than Molly well account for. He came in with the same air of easy with which he had her and her father at Ashcombe Manor-house. He looked in his riding-dress, and with the open-air he had just had. But Mrs. Gibson's a little at the of him, and her of him was much than that which she gave to visitors. Yet there was a of in it, which Molly a little. Mrs. Gibson was at her worsted-work when Mr. Preston entered the room; but somehow in to him, she her of crewels, and, Molly's offer to help her, she would up all the herself, she asked her visitor to down. He there, in hand, an in the of the which Molly was sure he did not feel; for all the time his were the room, and taking note of the in the arrangement.
At length they were seated, and began.
"It is the time I have been in Hollingford since your marriage, Mrs. Gibson, or I should have called to pay my respects sooner."
"I know you are very at Ashcombe. I did not you to call. Is Lord Cumnor at the Towers? I have not from her for more than a week!"
"No! he still at Bath. But I had a from him me for Mr. Sheepshanks. Mr. Gibson is not at home, I'm afraid?"
"No. He is a great out—almost constantly, I may say. I had no idea that I should see so little of him. A doctor's wife leads a very life, Mr. Preston!"
"You can call it solitary, I should think, when you have such a as Miss Gibson always at hand," said he, to Molly.
"Oh, but I call it for a wife when her husband is away. Poor Mr. Kirkpatrick was happy unless I always with him;—all his walks, all his visits, he liked me to be with him. But, somehow, Mr. Gibson as if I should be in his way."
"I don't think you him on Black Bess, mamma," said Molly. "And unless you do that, you go with him in his up and all the lanes."
"Oh! but he might keep a brougham! I've often said so. And then I use it for visiting in the evenings. Really it was one why I didn't go to the Hollingford Charity Ball. I couldn't myself to use the dirty from the 'George.' We must papa up against next winter, Molly; it will do for you and—"
She herself up suddenly, and looked at Mr. Preston to see if he had taken any notice of her abruptness. Of he had, but he was not going to it. He to Molly, and said,—
"Have you been to a public yet, Miss Gibson?"
"No!" said Molly.
"It will be a great to you when the time comes."
"I'm not sure. I shall like it if I have of partners; but I'm I shan't know many people."
"And you that men haven't their own and means of being to girls?"
It was one of the speeches Molly had him for before; and delivered, too, in that of manner which that it was meant to a personal compliment. Molly took great to herself for the manner with which she on with her as if she had it.
"I only I may be one of your partners at the you go to. Pray, my early for that honour, when you are with for dances."
"I don't choose to myself beforehand," said Molly, perceiving, from under her eyelids, that he was and looking at her as though he was to have an answer.
"Young ladies are always very in fact, they may be in profession," he replied, himself in a manner to Mrs. Gibson. "In of Miss Gibson's of not having many partners, she the of having one. I Miss Kirkpatrick will have returned from France then?"
He said these last in the same as he had used before; but Molly's told her that he was making an to do so. She looked up. He was playing with his hat, almost as if he did not to have any answer to his question. Yet he was acutely, and with a on his face.
Mrs. Gibson a little, and hesitated,—
"Yes; certainly. My will be with us next winter, I believe; and I she will go out with us."
"Why can't she say at once that Cynthia is here now?" asked Molly of herself, yet that Mr. Preston's was baffled.
He still smiled; but this time he looked up at Mrs. Gibson, as he asked,—"You have good news from her, I hope?"
"Yes; very. By the way, how are our old friends the Robinsons? How often I think of their to me at Ashcombe! Dear good people, I wish I see them again."
"I will tell them of your inquiries. They are very well, I believe."
Just at this moment, Molly the familiar of the and opening of the door. She it must be Cynthia; and, of some which Mrs. Gibson wish to her daughter's from Mr. Preston, and to him, she rose to the room, and meet Cynthia on the stairs; but one of the of had itself in her and feet, and she had herself of the encumbrance, Cynthia had opened the drawing-room door, and in it, looking at her mother, at Molly, at Mr. Preston, but not one step. Her colour, which had been the moment of her entrance, away as she gazed; but her eyes—her eyes—usually so soft and grave, to with fire, and her to contract, as she took the to come and take her place among the three, who were all looking at her with different emotions. She moved and slowly forwards; Mr. Preston a step or two to meet her, his hand out, and the whole of his that of delight.
But she took no notice of the hand, of the chair that he offered her. She on a little sofa in one of the windows, and called Molly to her.
"Look at my purchases," said she. "This green was fourteen-pence a yard, this three shillings," and so she on, herself to speak about these as if they were all the world to her, and she had no attention to away on her mother and her mother's visitor.
Mr. Preston took his from her. He, too, talked of the news of the day, the local gossip—but Molly, who up at him from time to time, was almost by the of anger, almost to vindictiveness, which his looks. She did not wish to look again; and to up Cynthia's at a conversation. Yet she not help Mrs. Gibson's after civility, as if to make up for Cynthia's rudeness, and, if possible, to his anger. She talked perpetually, as though her object were to him; whereas, previous to Cynthia's return, she had allowed in the conversation, as though to give him the opportunity to take his leave.
In the of the them the Hamleys came up. Mrs. Gibson was to upon Molly's with this family; and when the the of her own name, her was saying,—
"Poor Mrs. Hamley do without Molly; she looked upon her as a daughter, the last, when, I am afraid, she had a good of anxiety. Mr. Osborne Hamley—I you have heard—he did not do so well at college, and they had so much—parents will, you know; but what did it signify? for he had not to earn his living! I call it a very of when a man has not to go into a profession."
"Well, at any rate, the Squire must be satisfied now. I saw this morning's Times, with the Cambridge in it. Isn't the second son called after his father, Roger?"
"Yes," said Molly, starting up, and nearer.
"He's senior wrangler, that's all," said Mr. Preston, almost as though he were with himself for having anything to say that give her pleasure. Molly to her seat by Cynthia.
"Poor Mrs. Hamley," said she, very softly, as if to herself. Cynthia took her hand, in with Molly's sad and look, than she all that was in her mind, did she it herself. A death that had come out of time; a wonder the what passed upon the earth they had left—the Osborne's failure, Roger's success; the of wishes,—all these thoughts, and what they suggested, were up in her mind. She came to herself in a minutes. Mr. Preston was saying all the he think of about the Hamleys in a of false sympathy.
"The old Squire—not the of men—has his estate. And Osborne Hamley is too a to the means by which to the value of the land—even if he had the capital. A man who had practical knowledge of agriculture, and some thousands of money, might the up to eight thousand or so. Of course, Osborne will try and some one with money; the family is old and well-established, and he mustn't object to descent, though I the Squire will for him; but then the himself is not the man for the work. No! the family's going fast; and it's a when these old Saxon houses off the land; but it is 'kismet' with the Hamleys. Even the senior wrangler—if it is that Roger Hamley—he will have all his in one effort. You of a senior being anything afterwards. He'll be a Fellow of his college, of course—that will be a for him at any rate."
"I in senior wranglers," said Cynthia, her clear high voice through the room. "And from all I've of Mr. Roger Hamley, I he will keep up the he has earned. And I don't that the house of Hamley is so near in and fame, and good name."
"They are in having Miss Kirkpatrick's good word," said Mr. Preston, to take his leave.
"Dear Molly," said Cynthia, in a whisper, "I know nothing about your friends the Hamleys, that they are your friends, and what you have told me about them. But I won't have that man speaking of them so—and your with all the time. I'd sooner to their having all the and good under the sun."
The only person of Cynthia appeared to be was Mr. Gibson. When he was present she was more in speaking, and more to her mother. Her respect for him, and to win his good opinion, her herself him; and in this manner she his as a lively, girl, with just so much knowledge of the world as her a very to Molly. Indeed, she something of the same of on all men. They were with her personal appearance; and then with her manner, which to them much as if she had said, "You are wise, and I am foolish—have on my folly." It was a way she had; it meant nothing really; and she was of it herself; but it was very all the same. Even old Williams, the gardener, it; he said to his confidante, Molly—
"Eh, miss, but that be a lady! She do have such ways. I be to teach her to roses come the season—and I'll ye she'll learn enough, for all she says she so stupid."
If Molly had not had the in the world she might have of all the at Cynthia's feet; but she of the amount of and love which they each received. Yet once she did a little as if Cynthia were on her manor. The to the dinner had been sent to Osborne Hamley, and by him. But he it right to call soon afterwards. It was the time Molly had any of the family since she left the Hall, just Mrs. Hamley's death; and there was so much that she wanted to ask. She to wait till Mrs. Gibson had the of her nothings; and then Molly came in with her questions. How was the Squire? Had he returned to his old habits? Had his health suffered?—putting each with as light and a touch as if she had been a wound. She a little, a very little, speaking of Roger; for just one moment the across her mind, that Osborne might the his own and his brother's college career too to like to have it to; but then she the love that had always the two, and had just entered upon the subject, when Cynthia in to her mother's summons, came into the room, and took up her work. No one have been quieter—she a word; but Osborne to under her power at once. He no longer gave his attention to Molly. He cut his to her questions; and by-and-by, without Molly's how it was, he had Cynthia, and was himself to her. Molly saw the look of on Mrs. Gibson's face; it was her own at not having all she to know about Roger, which gave her a than usual, but it is that all at once she that Mrs. Gibson would not a marriage Osborne and Cynthia, and the present occasion as an beginning. Remembering the which she had been let into so unwillingly, Molly his behaviour, almost as if she had been in the of the wife; but, after all, as much of the possibility of his Cynthia as of the unknown and Mrs. Osborne Hamley. His manner was of great and of in of the girl to he was talking. He was in mourning, which off his and face. But there was nothing of flirting, as as Molly the meaning of the word, in either looks or words. Cynthia, too, was quiet; she was always much with men than with women; it was part of the of her soft that she was so passive. They were talking of France. Mrs. Gibson herself had passed two or three years of her there; and Cynthia's late return from Boulogne it a very natural of conversation. But Molly was out of it; and with her still as to the of Roger's success, she had to up at last, and Osborne's good-by, longer or more than his to Cynthia. As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Gibson in his praise.
"Well, really, I to have some in long descent. What a he is! How and polite! So different from that Mr. Preston," she continued, looking a little at Cynthia. Cynthia, aware that her reply was being for, said, coolly,—
"Mr. Preston doesn't on acquaintance. There was a time, mamma, when I think you and I him very agreeable."
"I don't remember. You've a memory than I have. But we were talking of this Mr. Osborne Hamley. Why, Molly, you were always talking of his brother—it was Roger this, and Roger that—I can't think how it was you so mentioned this man."
"I didn't know I had mentioned Mr. Roger Hamley so often," said Molly, a little. "But I saw much more of him—he was more at home."
"Well, well! It's all right, my dear. I he you best. But really, when I saw Osborne Hamley close to my Cynthia, I couldn't help thinking—but I'd not tell you what I was of. Only they are each of them so much above the in appearance; and, of course, that things."
"I perfectly what you were of, mamma," said Cynthia, with the composure; "and so Molly, I have no doubt."
"Well! there's no in it, I'm sure. Did you him say that, though he did not like to his father alone just at present, yet that when his Roger came from Cambridge, he should more at liberty! It was as much as to say, 'If you will ask me to dinner then, I shall be to come.' And will be so much cheaper, and cook has such a way of them, and doing them up with forcemeat. Everything to be out so fortunately. And Molly, my dear, you know I won't you. By-and-by, when Roger Hamley has taken his turn at stopping at home with his father, we will ask him to one of our little dinners."
Molly was very slow at taking this in; but in about a minute the of it had her brain, and she all over very red and hot; as she saw that Cynthia was the light come into her mind with great amusement.
"I'm Molly isn't properly grateful, mamma. If I were you, I wouldn't myself to give a dinner-party on her account. Bestow all your upon me."
Molly was often puzzled by Cynthia's speeches to her mother; and this was one of these occasions. But she was more to say something for herself; she was so much at the in Mrs. Gibson's last words.
"Mr. Roger Hamley has been very good to me; he was a great at home when I was there, and Mr. Osborne Hamley was very little there: that was the I spoke so much more of one than the other. If I had—if he had,"—losing her in the of words,—"I don't think I should,—oh, Cynthia, of laughing at me, I think you might help me to myself!"
Instead, Cynthia gave a to the conversation.
"Mamma's me an idea of weakness. I can't make out it's in or mind. Which is it, Molly?"
"He is not strong, I know; but he's very and clever. Every one says that,—even papa, who doesn't men. That the puzzle the when he did so at college."
"Then it's his that is weak. I'm sure there's somewhere; but he's very agreeable. It must have been very pleasant, at the Hall."
"Yes; but it's all over now."
"Oh, nonsense!" said Mrs. Gibson, up from the in her pattern. "We shall have the men to dinner often, you'll see. Your father them, and I shall always make a point of his friends. They can't go on for a mother for ever. I we shall see a great of them; and that the two families will very intimate. After all, these good Hollingford people are behindhand, and I should say, commonplace."
