FATHER AND SONS.
Illustrationhings were not going on any at Hamley Hall. Nothing had to the of into which the Squire and his son had fallen; and the long of is sure of itself to the feeling. Roger did all in his power to the father and son together; but sometimes if it would not have been to them alone; for they were into the of each making him their confidant, and so and opinions which would have had less if they had been unexpressed. There was little in the daily life at the Hall to help them all to shake off the gloom; and it told on the health of the Squire and Osborne. The Squire thinner, his skin as well as his to about him, and the of his colour to red streaks, till his looked like Eardiston pippins, of "a Katherine on the that's next the sun." Roger that his father and in his study more than was good for him, but it had difficult to him afield; he was too much of across some of the works, or being by the of his timber. Osborne was up in the idea of his for the press, and so out his wish for independence. What with daily to his wife—taking his himself to a post-office, and hers there—touching up his sonnets, &c., with care—and occasionally himself the of a visit to the Gibsons, and the of the two girls there, he little time for being with his father. Indeed, Osborne was too self-indulgent or "sensitive," as he it, to well with the Squire's fits, or too querulousness. The of his secret, too, Osborne in his father's presence. It was very well for all parties that Roger was not "sensitive," for, if he had been, there were times when it would have been hard to little of tyranny, by which his father to his power over his sons. One of these very soon after the night of the Hollingford charity-ball.
Roger had his father to come out with him; and the Squire had, on his son's suggestion, taken with him his long spud. The two had afield; the man had the length of too much for him; for, as he approached the house, on his return, he what call in children "fractious," and to turn on his for every he made. Roger the case by instinct, as it were, and it all with his of temper. They entered the house by the door; it on their line of march. On the old yellow-marble slab, there a card with Lord Hollingford's name on it, which Robinson, on the watch for their return, out of his to deliver to Roger.
"His was very sorry not to see you, Mr. Roger, and his left a note for you. Mr. Osborne took it, I think, when he passed through. I asked his if he would like to see Mr. Osborne, who was indoors, as I thought. But his said he was pressed for time, and told me to make his excuses."
"Didn't he ask for me?" the Squire.
"No, sir; I can't say as his did. He would have of Mr. Osborne, sir, if I hadn't named him. It was Mr. Roger he so after."
"Very odd," said the Squire. Roger said nothing, although he naturally some curiosity. He into the drawing-room, not aware that his father was him. Osborne at a table near the fire, pen in hand, looking over one of his poems, and the i's, the t's, and now and then over the of a word.
"Oh, Roger!" he said, as his came in, "here's been Lord Hollingford wanting to see you."
"I know," Roger.
"And he's left a note for you. Robinson to him it was for my father, so he's added a 'junior' (Roger Hamley, Esq., junior) in pencil." The Squire was in the room by this time, and what he had him up still more the way. Roger took his note and read it.
"What he say?" asked the Squire.
Roger him the note. It an to dinner to meet M. Geoffroi St. H——, views on Roger had been in the article Lord Hollingford had spoken about to Molly, when he with her at the Hollingford ball. M. Geoffroi St. H—— was in England now, and was to pay a visit at the Towers in the of the week. He had a wish to meet the author of the paper which had already the attention of the French anatomists; and Lord Hollingford added a as to his own to make the of a neighbour tastes were so to his own; and then a message from Lord and Lady Cumnor.
Lord Hollingford's hand was and illegible. The not read it all at once, and was put out to any in it. At last he it out.
"So my lord is taking some notice of the Hamleys at last. The election is on, is it? But I can tell him we're not to be got so easily. I this is set for you, Osborne? What's this you've been that the French is so taken with?"
"It is not me, sir!" said Osborne. "Both note and call are for Roger."
"I don't it," said the Squire. "These Whig have done their by me; not that I want it of them. The Duke of Debenham used to pay the Hamleys a respect to 'em—the in the county—but since he died, and this Whig lord has succeeded him, I've at the lord lieutenant's—no, not once."
"But I think, sir, I've you say Lord Cumnor used to you,—only you did not choose to go," said Roger.
"Yes. What d'ye by that? Do you I was going to the of my family, and with the Whigs? No! that to them. They can ask the of the Hamleys fast when a election is on."
"I tell you, sir," said Osborne, in the he sometimes used when his father was particularly unreasonable, "it is not me Lord Hollingford is inviting; it is Roger. Roger is making himself for what he is, a first-rate fellow," Osborne—a of self-reproach with his in his brother—"and he's himself a name; he's been about these new French and discoveries, and this very naturally wants to make his acquaintance, and so Lord Hollingford him to dine. It's as clear as can be," his tone, and himself to Roger; "it has nothing to do with politics, if my father would but see it."
Of the Squire this little with the unlucky of which is a of the of deafness; and its on him was in the of his next speech.
"You men think you know everything. I tell you it's a Whig trick. And what has Roger—if it is Roger the man wants—to go with the French? In my day we were to 'em and to 'em. But it's just like your conceit, Osborne, setting up to say it's your they're asking, and not you; I tell you it's you. They think the son was sure to be called after his father, Roger—Roger Hamley, junior. It's as plain as a pike-staff. They know they can't catch me with chaff, but they've got up this French dodge. What had you to go about the French, Roger? I should have you were too to take any notice of their and theories; but if it is you they've asked, I'll not have you going and meeting these at a Whig house. They ought to have asked Osborne. He's the of the Hamleys, if I'm not; and they can't me, let 'em try so. Besides, Osborne has got a of the about him, which he with being so of going off to the Continent, of to his good old English home."
He on much of what he had said before, till he left the room. Osborne had on to his grumblings, which had only added to his anger; and as soon as the Squire was gone, Osborne to Roger, and said,—
"Of you'll go, Roger? ten to one he'll be in another mind to-morrow."
"No," said Roger, enough—for he was disappointed; "I won't the of him. I shall refuse."
"Don't be such a fool!" Osborne. "Really, my father is too unreasonable. You how he himself; and such a man as you to be under like a child by—"
"Don't let us talk any more about it, Osborne," said Roger, away fast. When the note was written, and sent off, he came and put his hand on Osborne's shoulder, as he to read, but in with his father and his brother, though on very different grounds.
"How go the poems, old fellow? I they're nearly to out."
"No, they're not; and if it weren't for the money, I shouldn't if they were published. What's the use of fame, if one mayn't the fruits of it?"
"Come, now, we'll have no more of that; let's talk about the money. I shall be going up for my Fellowship next week, and then we'll have a in common, for they'll think of not me a Fellowship now I'm senior wrangler. I'm myself at present, and I don't like to my father; but when I'm Fellow, you shall take me to Winchester, and me to the little wife."
"It will be a month next Monday since I left her," said Osborne, his papers and into the fire, as if by so doing he call up her image. "In her this she me give you such a message. It won't into English; you must read it for yourself," he, pointing out a line or two in a he from his pocket.
Roger that one or two of the were spelt; but their was so and loving, and had such a touch of simple, in them, that he not help being to the little sister-in-law, Osborne had by helping her to look for some missing article of the children's, she was taking for their daily walk in Hyde Park. For Mrs. Osborne Hamley had been nothing more than a French bonne, very pretty, very graceful, and very much over by the little boys and girls she had in charge. She was a little girl, who had the of a English family, as she had some articles of at an hotel; and she had been by them as to their children, as a and herself, it would be so good for the children to learn French from a native (of Alsace!). By-and-by her to take any particular notice of Aimée in the of London and London gaiety; but though more and more in a land every day, the French girl hard to do her duty. One touch of kindness, however, was to set the gushing; and she and Osborne naturally into an of love, to be by the of the mother, when accident to her the her children's and a man of an different class. Aimée answered to all her mistress's questions; but no wisdom, any lesson to be learnt from another's experience, in the least her entire in her lover. Perhaps Mrs. Townshend did no more than her in sending Aimée to Metz, where she had met with her, and where such relations as to the girl might be to be residing. But, altogether, she so little of the of people or life to which she was her protégée that Osborne, after with to the lecture which Mrs. Townshend gave him when he on her in order to learn what had of his love, that the man set off for Metz in haste, and did not let the under his until he had Aimée his wife. All this had the previous autumn, and Roger did not know of the step his had taken until it was irrevocable. Then came the mother's death, which, the of its own sorrow, with it the of the kind, mediatrix, who always and turn his father's heart. It is doubtful, however, if she have succeeded in this, for the Squire looked high, and over high, for the wife of his heir; he all foreigners, and all Roman Catholics in and something to our ancestors' of witchcraft. All these were by his grief. Argument would always have away off his of unreason; but a impulse, in a happy moment, might have his to what he most in the days. But the happy moments came not now, and the were by the of his remorse, not less than by his irritability; so Aimée in the little near Winchester in which Osborne had her when she came to England as his wife, and in the of which he had himself so into debt. For Osborne his own taste in his than her and wants, and looked upon the little Frenchwoman as the of Hamley Hall than as the wife of a man who was on others at present. He had a southern as being from those where the name of Hamley of Hamley was well and known; for he did not wish his wife to assume, if only for a time, a name which was not and legally her own. In all these he had to do his full by her; and she him with and reverence. If his had met with a check, or his for college had been disappointed, he where to go for a comforter; one who out till her were in her by the of her thoughts, and who out the small of her on every one who did not and to her husband's merits. If she to go to the château—that was his home—and to be to his family, Aimée a word of it to him. Only she did yearn, and she did plead, for a little more of her husband's company; and the good which had her of the of his being so much away when he was present to them, failed in their when she to them to herself in his absence.
The of the day on which Lord Hollingford called Roger was going upstairs, three steps at a time, when, at a turn on the landing, he his father. It was the time he had him since their about the Towers' to dinner. The Squire stopped his son by right in the middle of the passage.
"Thou'rt going to meet the mounseer, my lad?" said he, as affirmation, as question.
"No, sir; I sent off James almost with a note it. I don't about it—that's to say, not to signify."
"Why did you take me up so sharp, Roger?" said his father pettishly. "You all take me up so now-a-days. I think it's hard when a man mustn't be allowed a of when he's and at heart—that I do."
"But, father, I should like to go to a house where they had you."
"Nay, nay, lad," said the Squire, up a little; "I think I them. They asked me to dinner, after my lord was lieutenant, time after time, but I would go near 'em. I call that my them."
And no more was said at the time; but the next day the Squire again stopped Roger.
"I've been making Jem try on his livery-coat that he hasn't this three or four years,—he's got too for it now."
"Well, he needn't wear it, need he? and Morgan's will be of it,—he's sadly in want of clothes."
"Ay, ay; but who's to go with you when you call at the Towers? It's but to call after Lord What's-his-name has taken the trouble to come here; and I shouldn't like you to go without a groom."
"My dear father! I shouldn't know what to do with a man at my back. I can my way to the stable-yard for myself, or there'll be some man about to take my horse. Don't trouble about that."
"Well, you're not Osborne, to be sure. Perhaps it won't 'em as for you. But you must look up, and your own, and you're one of the Hamleys, who've been on the same land for hundreds of years, while they're but Whig who only came into the in Queen Anne's time."
