THE HALF-SISTERS.
Illustrationt appeared as if Mrs. Gibson's were likely to be verified; for Osborne Hamley his way to her drawing-room frequently. To be sure, sometimes can help on the of their own prophecies; and Mrs. Gibson was not passive.
Molly was puzzled by his manners and ways. He spoke of occasional from the Hall, without saying where he had been. But that was not her idea of the of a married man; who, she imagined, ought to have a house and servants, and pay rent and taxes, and live with his wife. Who this wife might be into the wonder of where she was. London, Cambridge, Dover, nay, France, were mentioned by him as places to which he had been on these different little journeys. These came out casually, almost as if he was of what he was betraying. Sometimes he out such as these:—"Ah, that would be the day I was crossing! It was indeed! Instead of our being only two hours, we were nearly five." Or, "I met Lord Hollingford at Dover last week, and he said," &c. "The cold now is nothing to what it was in London on Thursday—the was at 15°." Perhaps, in the of conversation, these small were noticed by no one but Molly; and were always over the she had of, in of all her self-reproach for her to on what was still to be as a mystery.
It was also to her that Osborne was not too happy at home. He had the touch of which he had when he was to do at college; and that was one good result of his failure. If he did not give himself the trouble of other people, and their performances, at any his was not so with pepper. He was more absent, not so agreeable, Mrs. Gibson thought, but did not say. He looked in health; but that might be the of the of which Molly occasionally saw out through all his surface-talk. Now and then, when he was talking directly to her, he to "the happy days that are gone," or, "to the time when my mother was alive;" and then his voice sank, and a came over his countenance, and Molly to her own sympathy. He did not often mention his father; and Molly she read in his manner, when he did, that something of the painful she had noticed when she was last at the Hall still them. Nearly every particular she of the family she had from Mrs. Hamley, and she was how her father was with them; so she did not like to question him too closely; was he a man to be so questioned as to the of his patients. Sometimes she if it was a dream—that half-hour in the library at Hamley Hall—when she had learnt a which so all-important to Osborne, yet which so little in his way of life—either in speech or action. During the twelve or fourteen hours that she had at the Hall afterwards, no had been to his marriage, either by himself or by Roger. It was, indeed, very like a dream. Probably Molly would have been much more in the of her if Osborne had her as particularly in his to Cynthia. She and him, but not in any or of way. He her beauty, and to her charm; but he would her side, and come to near Molly, if anything him of his mother, about which he talk to her, and to her alone. Yet he came so often to the Gibsons, that Mrs. Gibson might be for the she had taken into her head, that it was for Cynthia's sake. He liked the lounge, the friendliness, the company of two girls of and manners above the average; one of in a relation to him, as having been by the mother memory he so fondly. Knowing himself to be out of the category of bachelors, he was, perhaps, too as to other people's ignorance, and its possible consequences.
Somehow, Molly did not like to be the to Roger's name into the conversation, so she many an opportunity of about him. Osborne was often so or so that he only the lead of talk; and as an fellow, who had paid her no particular attention, and as a second son, Roger was not pre-eminent in Mrs. Gibson's thoughts; Cynthia had him, and the did not take her often to speak about him. He had not come home since he had his high place in the mathematical lists: that Molly knew; and she knew, too, that he was hard for something—she a fellowship—and that was all. Osborne's in speaking of him was always the same: every word, every of the voice out and respect—nay, admiration! And this from the brother, who his so far.
"Ah, Roger!" he said one day. Molly the name in an instant, though she had not what had gone before. "He is a in a thousand—in a thousand, indeed! I don't there is his match for and solid power combined."
"Molly," said Cynthia, after Mr. Osborne Hamley had gone, "what of a man is this Roger Hamley? One can't tell how much to of his brother's praises; for it is the one on which Osborne Hamley enthusiastic. I've noticed it once or twice before."
While Molly on which point of the large to her description, Mrs. Gibson in,—
"It just what a sweet Osborne Hamley is of—that he should his as he does. I he is a senior wrangler, and much good may it do him! I don't that; but as for conversation, he's as as can be. A great to boot, who looks as if he did not know two and two four, for all he is such a mathematical genius. You would he was Osborne Hamley's to see him! I should not think he has a profile at all."
"What do you think of him, Molly?" said the Cynthia.
"I like him," said Molly. "He has been very to me. I know he isn't like Osborne."
It was difficult to say all this quietly, but Molly managed to do it, aware that Cynthia would not till she had some of an opinion out of her.
"I he will come home at Easter," said Cynthia, "and then I shall see him for myself."
"It's a great that their being in will prevent their going to the Easter ball," said Mrs. Gibson, plaintively. "I shan't like to take you two girls, if you are not to have any partners. It will put me in such an position. I wish we join on to the Towers party. That would secure you partners, for they always a number of dancing men, who might with you after they had done their by the ladies of the house. But is so since dear Lady Cumnor has been an that, perhaps, they won't go at all."
This Easter was a great of with Mrs. Gibson. She sometimes spoke of it as her in as a bride, though she had been visiting once or twice a week all winter long. Then she her ground, and said she so much in it, she would then have the of her own and Mr. Gibson's to public notice, though the was that nearly every one who was going to this had the two ladies—though not their dresses—before. But, the manners of the as as she them, she to "bring out" Molly and Cynthia on this occasion, which she in something of the light of a presentation at Court. "They are not out yet," was her when either of them was to any house to which she did not wish them to go, or they were without her. She a about their "not being out" when Miss Browning—that old friend of the Gibson family—came in one to ask the two girls to come to a tea and a game afterwards; this mild piece of being designed as an attention to three of Mrs. Goodenough's grandchildren—two ladies and their brother—who were on a visit to their grand-mamma.
"You are very kind, Miss Browning, but, you see, I like to let them go—they are not out, you know, till after the Easter ball."
"Till when we are invisible," said Cynthia, always with her to any of her mother's. "We are so high in rank that our must give us her we can play a game at your house."
Cynthia the idea of her own full-grown size and gait, as with that of a meek, half-fledged girl in the nursery; but Miss Browning was puzzled and affronted.
"I don't it at all. In my days girls it pleased people to ask them, without this of out in all their new at some public place. I don't but what the took their to York, or Matlock, or Bath, to give them a taste of when they were up; and the quality up to London, and their ladies were presented to Queen Charlotte, and to a birthday ball, perhaps. But for us little Hollingford people—why, we every child us from the day of its birth; and many a girl of twelve or fourteen have I go out to a card-party, and at her work, and know how to as well as any lady there. There was no talk of 'coming out' in those days for any one under the of a Squire."
"After Easter, Molly and I shall know how to at a card-party, but not before," said Cynthia, demurely.
"You're always of your and your cranks, my dear," said Miss Browning, "and I wouldn't answer for your behaviour: you sometimes let your you away. But I'm sure Molly will be a little lady as she always is, and always was, and I have her from a babe."
Mrs. Gibson took up arms on of her own daughter, or, rather, she took up arms against Molly's praises.
"I don't think you would have called Molly a lady the other day, Miss Browning, if you had her where I did: up in a cherry-tree, six from the ground at least, I do you."
"Oh! but that wasn't pretty," said Miss Browning, her at Molly. "I you'd left off those tom-boy ways."
"She wants the which good in ways," said Mrs. Gibson, returning to the attack on Molly. "She's very to come two steps at a time."
"Only two, Molly!" said Cynthia. "Why, to-day I I manage four of these steps."
"My dear child, what are you saying?"
"Only that I, like Molly, want the which good gives; therefore, do let us go to Miss Brownings' this evening. I will myself for Molly that she shan't in a cherry-tree; and Molly shall see that I don't go in an way. I will go as as if I were a come-out lady, and had been to the Easter ball."
So it was that they should go. If Mr. Osborne Hamley had been named as one of the visitors, there would have been none of this about the affair.
But though he was not there, his Roger was. Molly saw him in a minute when she entered the little drawing-room; but Cynthia did not.
"And see, my dears," said Miss Phœbe Browning, them to the where Roger waiting for his turn of speaking to Molly, "we've got a for you after all! Wasn't it fortunate?—just as sister said that you might it dull—you, Cynthia, she meant, you know you come from France—then, just as if he had been sent from heaven, Mr. Roger came in to call; and I won't say we hands on him, he was too good for that; but we should have been near it, if he had not of his own accord."
The moment Roger had done his to Molly, he asked her to him to Cynthia.
Roger is and enslaved.
Roger is and enslaved.
Click to ENLARGE
"I want to know her—your new sister," he added, with the Molly so well since the very day she had it her, as she under the ash. Cynthia was a little Molly when Roger asked for this introduction. She was with careless grace. Molly, who was itself, used sometimes to wonder how Cynthia's gowns, away so untidily, had the art of looking so well, and in such folds. For instance, the she this had been many times before, and had looked to wear again till Cynthia put it on. Then the softness, and the very took the lines of beauty. Molly, in a clean pink muslin, did not look so as Cynthia. The that the when she had to be presented to Roger had a of child-like and wonder about them, which did not to Cynthia's character. She put on her of magic that evening—involuntarily as she always did; but, on the other side, she not help trying her power on strangers. Molly had always that she should have a right to a good long talk with Roger when she next saw him; and that he would tell her, or she should from him all the she so to about the Squire—about the Hall—about Osborne—about himself. He was just as and as with her. If Cynthia had not been there, all would have gone on as she had anticipated; but of all the to Cynthia's he most and abject. Molly saw it all, as she was next to Miss Phœbe at the tea-table, acting right-hand, and cake, cream, sugar, with such that every one herself that her mind, as well as her hands, was occupied. She to talk to the two girls, as in of her two years' she herself to do; and the was, she with the to her arms, and to an friendship. Nothing would satisfy them but that she must them at vingt-un; and they were so of her in the point of the price of the that she not have joined in the going on Roger and Cynthia. Or, rather, it would be more to say that Roger was talking in a most manner to Cynthia, sweet were upon his with a look of great in all he was saying, while it was only now and then she her low replies. Molly a occasionally in of business.
"At my uncle's, we always give a for three dozen. You know what a is, don't you, dear Miss Gibson?"
"The three are published in the Senate House at nine o'clock on the Friday morning, and you can't imagine—"
"I think it will be to play at anything less than sixpence. That gentleman" (this in a whisper) "is at Cambridge, and you know they always play very high there, and sometimes themselves, don't they, dear Miss Gibson?"
"Oh, on this occasion the Master of Arts who the for when they go into the Senate House is called the Father of the College to which he belongs. I think I mentioned that before, didn't I?"
So Cynthia was all about Cambridge, and the very about which Molly had such interest, without having been able to have her questions answered by a person; and Roger, to she had always looked as the final and most satisfactory answerer, was telling the whole of what she wanted to know, and she not listen. It took all her patience to make up little of counters, and settle, as the of the game, it would be for the or the to be as six. And when all was done, and every one in their places the table, Roger and Cynthia had to be called twice they came. They up, it is true, at the of their names; but they did not move—Roger on talking, Cynthia till the second call; when they to the table and to appear, all on a sudden, in the great questions of the game—namely, the price of three dozen counters, and whether, all considered, it would be to call the or the half-a-dozen each. Miss Browning, the pack of cards on the table, and to dealing, the by saying, "Rounds are sixes, and three dozen cost sixpence. Pay up, if you please, and let us at once." Cynthia Roger and William Orford, the schoolboy, who on this occasion his sisters' of calling him "Willie," as he it was this which Cynthia from as much to him as to Mr. Roger Hamley; he also was by the charmer, who to give him one or two of her sweet smiles. On his return home to his grand-mamma's, he gave out one or two very and original opinions, opposed—as was natural—to his sisters'. One was—
"That, after all, a senior was no great shakes. Any man might be one if he liked, but there were a of that he who would be very sorry to go in for anything so slow."
Molly the game would end. She had no particular turn for in her; and her card might be, she put on two counters, as to she or lost. Cynthia, on the contrary, high, and was at one time very rich, but ended by being in to Molly something like six shillings. She had her purse, she said, and was to borrow from the more Molly, who was aware that the game of which Miss Browning had spoken to her was likely to money. If it was not a very for all the concerned, it was a very noisy one on the whole. Molly it was going to last till midnight; but punctually, as the clock nine, the little maid-servant in under the weight of a with sandwiches, cakes, and jelly. This on a move; and Roger, who appeared to have been on the watch for something of the kind, came and took a chair by Molly.
"I am so to see you again—it such a long time since Christmas," said he, his voice, and not more to the day when she had left the Hall.
"It is a long time," she replied; "we are close to Easter now. I have so wanted to tell you how I was to about your at Cambridge. I once of sending you a message through your brother, but then I it might be making too much fuss, I know nothing of mathematics, or of the value of a senior wranglership; and you were sure to have so many from people who did know."
"I missed yours though, Molly," said he, kindly. "But I sure you were for me."
"Glad and proud too," said she. "I should so like to something more about it. I you telling Cynthia—"
"Yes. What a person she is! I should think you must be than we long ago."
"But tell me something about the senior wranglership, please," said Molly.
"It's a long story, and I ought to be helping the Miss Brownings to hand sandwiches—besides, you wouldn't it very interesting, it's so full of details."
"Cynthia looked very much interested," said Molly.
"Well! then I you to her, for I must go now. I can't for go on here, and those good ladies have all the trouble. But I shall come and call on Mrs. Gibson soon. Are you walking home to-night?"
"Yes, I think so," Molly, what was to come.
"Then I shall walk home with you. I left my at the 'George,' and that's half-way. I old Betty will allow me to you and your sister? You used to her as something of a dragon."
"Betty has left us," said Molly, sadly. "She's gone to live at a place at Ashcombe."
He a of dismay, and then off to his duties. The had been very pleasant, and his manner had had just the of old times; but it was not the manner he had to Cynthia; and Molly she would have the latter. He was now about Cynthia, who had the offer of from Willie Orford. Roger was her, and with her to take some thing from him. Every word they said be by the whole room; yet every word was said, on Roger's part at least, as if he not have spoken it in that manner to any one else. At length, and more she was of being entreated, than it was his wish, Cynthia took a macaroon, and Roger as happy as though she had him with flowers. The whole was as and as be in itself; noticing; and yet Molly did notice it, and uneasy; she not tell why. As it out, it was a rainy night, and Mrs. Gibson sent a for the two girls of old Betty's substitute. Both Cynthia and Molly of the possibility of their taking the two Orford girls to their grandmother's, and so saving them a wet walk; but Cynthia got the start in speaking about it; and the thanks and the for were hers.
When they got home Mr. and Mrs. Gibson were in the drawing-room, to be by any of the evening.
Cynthia began,—
"Oh! it wasn't very entertaining. One didn't that," and she wearily.
"Who were there?" asked Mr. Gibson. "Quite a party—wasn't it?"
"They'd only asked Lizzie and Fanny Orford, and their brother; but Mr. Roger Hamley had over and called on Miss Brownings, and they him to tea. No one else."
"Roger Hamley there!" said Mr. Gibson. "He's come home then. I must make time to over and see him."
"You'd much ask him here," said Mrs. Gibson. "Suppose you him and his to here on Friday, my dear. It would be a very attention, I think."
"My dear! these Cambridge men have a very good taste in wine, and don't it. My won't many of their attacks."
"I didn't think you were so inhospitable, Mr. Gibson."
"I'm not inhospitable, I'm sure. If you'll put 'bitter beer' in the of your notes of invitation, just as the people put 'quadrilles' as a of the offered, we'll have Osborne and Roger to dinner any day you like. And what did you think of my favourite, Cynthia? You hadn't him before, I think?"
"Oh! he's nothing like so as his brother; so polished; so easy to talk to. He me for more than an hour with a long account of some or other; but there's something one about him."
"Well—and Molly," said Mrs. Gibson, who herself on being an stepmother, and who always hard to make Molly talk as much as Cynthia,—"what of an have you had?"
"Very pleasant, thank you." Her a little her as she said this. She had not for the game; and she would have for Roger's conversation. She had had what she was to, and not had what she would have liked.
"We've had our visitor, too," said Mr. Gibson. "Just after dinner, who should come in but Mr. Preston. I he's having more of the management of the Hollingford property than formerly. Sheepshanks is an old man. And if so, I we shall see a good of Preston. He's 'no blate,' as they used to say in Scotland, and himself at home to-night. If I'd asked him to stay, or, indeed, if I'd done anything but yawn, he'd have been here now. But I any man to when I've a fit of yawning."
"Do you like Mr. Preston, papa?" asked Molly.
"About as much as I do the men I meet. He talks well, and has a good deal. I know very little of him, though, that he's my lord's steward, which is a for a good deal."
"Lady Harriet spoke against him that day I was with her at the Manor-house."
"Lady Harriet's always full of fancies: she to-day, and them to-morrow," said Mrs. Gibson, who was touched on her point Molly Lady Harriet, or said anything to so an with her.
"You must know a good about Mr. Preston, my dear. I you saw a good of him at Ashcombe?"
Mrs. Gibson coloured, and looked at Cynthia she replied. Cynthia's was set into a not to speak, much she might be to.
"Yes; we saw a good of him—at one time, I mean. He's changeable, I think. But he always sent us game, and sometimes fruit. There were some against him, but I them."
"What of stories?" said Mr. Gibson, quickly.
"Oh, stories, you know: scandal, I daresay. No one them. He be so if he chose; and my lord, who is so very particular, would have him as agent if they were true; not that I what they were, for I all as gossip."
"I'm very I in his face," said Mr. Gibson. "I he'll take the hint."
"If it was one of your giant-gapes, papa, I should call it more than a hint," said Molly. "And if you want a the next time he comes, I'll join in; won't you, Cynthia?"
"I don't know," the latter, shortly, as she her bed-candle. The two girls had some in one or other of their bed-rooms; but to-night Cynthia said something or other about being tired, and her door.
The very next day, Roger came to pay his promised call. Molly was out in the garden with Williams, the of some new flower-beds, and in her of upon the lawn to mark out the different situations, when, up to mark the effect, her was by the of a gentleman, with his to the light, and talking, or listening, eagerly. Molly the shape of the perfectly, and to put off her brown-holland apron, the pockets as she spoke to Williams.
"You can it now, I think," said she. "You know about the bright-coloured flowers being against the privet-hedge, and where the new rose-bed is to be?"
"I can't say as I do," said he. "Mebbe, you'll just go o'er it all once again, Miss Molly. I'm not so as I was, and my is not so clear now-a-days, and I'd be to make mistakes when you're so set upon your plans."
Molly gave up her in a moment. She saw that the old was perplexed, yet that he was as as he be to do his best. So she over the ground again, and till the was again, and he saying, "I see, miss. All right, Miss Molly, I'se it in my as clear as now."
So she him, and go in. But just as she was close to the garden door, Roger came out. It was for once a case of its own reward, for it was to her to have him in a tête-à-tête, short, than in the of Mrs. Gibson's and Cynthia's presence.
"I only just out where you were, Molly. Mrs. Gibson said you had gone out, but she didn't know where; and it was the that I and saw you."
"I saw you some time ago, but I couldn't Williams. I think he was slow to-day; and he as if he couldn't my plans for the new flower-beds."
"Is that the paper you've got in your hand? Let me look at it, will you? Ah, I see! you've some of your ideas from our garden at home, haven't you? This of geraniums, with the border of oaks, down! That was a of my dear mother's."
They were for a minute or two. Then Molly said,—
"How is the Squire? I've him since."
"No, he told me how much he wanted to see you, but he couldn't make up his mind to come and call. I it would do now for you to come and at the Hall, would it? It would give my father so much pleasure: he looks upon you as a daughter, and I'm sure Osborne and I shall always you are like a sister to us, after all my mother's love for you, and your of her at last. But I it wouldn't do."
"No! not," said Molly, hastily.
"I if you come it would put us a little to rights. You know, as I think I once told you, Osborne has to what I should have done, though not wrongly,—only what I call an error of judgment. But my father, I'm sure, has taken up some of—never mind; only the end of it is that he Osborne still in disgrace, and is himself all the time. Osborne, too, is and unhappy, and from my father. It is just what my mother would have put right very soon, and you have done it—unconsciously, I mean—for this that Osborne about his is at the of it all. But there's no use talking about it; I don't know why I began." Then, with a wrench, the subject, while Molly still of what he had been telling her, he out,—"I can't tell you how much I like Miss Kirkpatrick, Molly. It must be a great to you having such a companion!"
"Yes," said Molly, smiling. "I'm very of her; and I think I like her every day I know her. But how you have out her virtues!"
"I didn't say 'virtues,' did I?" asked he, reddening, but the question in all good faith. "Yet I don't think one be in that face. And Mrs. Gibson to be a very person,—she has asked Osborne and me to here on Friday."
"Bitter beer" came into Molly's mind; but what she said was, "And are you coming?"
"Certainly, I am, unless my father wants me; and I've Mrs. Gibson a promise for Osborne, too. So I shall see you all very soon again. But I must go now. I have to keep an seven miles from here in half-an-hour's time. Good luck to your flower-garden, Molly."
