COMING EVENTS.
Roger had over many plans in his mind, by which he that he obtain money for the purpose he to accomplish. His grandfather, who had been a merchant in the city, had so up the thousands he had left to his daughter, that although, in case of her death her husband's, the might the life-interest thereof, yet, in case of their deaths, their second son did not succeed to the property until he was five-and-twenty; and if he died that age, the money that would then have been his to one of his on the side. In short, the old merchant had taken as many about his as if it had been for tens, of of thousands. Of Roger might have through all these by his life until the age; and, probably, if he had any lawyer, this would have been to him. But he taking any one into his on the of his father's want of money. He had a copy of his grandfather's will at Doctors' Commons, and he that all the in it would be to the light of nature and common sense. He was a little in this, but not the less that money in some way he would have in order to his promise to his father, and for the purpose of the some daily to his from the and that were almost his mind. It was "Roger Hamley, senior and Fellow of Trinity, to the bidder, no what employment," and presently it came to "any at all."
Another and at this time upon Roger. Osborne, to the estate, was going to have a child. The Hamley property was on "heirs male in wedlock." Was the "wedlock" lawful? Osborne to that it was—never seemed, in fact, to think twice about it. And if he, the husband, did not, how much less did Aimée, the wife? Yet who tell how much any of might into the future? One Roger, by the languid, careless, Osborne, to question him as to the of the marriage. Osborne at what Roger was aiming. It was not that he did not perfect in to his wife; it was that he was so at the time that he to be bothered. It was something like the of Gray's Scandinavian Prophetess: "Leave me, me to repose."
"But do try and tell me how you managed it."
"How you are, Roger!" put in Osborne.
"Well, I I am. Go on!"
"I've told you Morrison married us. You old Morrison at Trinity?"
"Yes; as good and blunder-headed a as lived."
"Well, he's taken orders; and the for priest's orders him so much that he got his father to give him a hundred or two for a on the Continent. He meant to to Rome, he that there were such there. So he up at Metz in August."
"I don't see why."
"No more did he. He was great in geography, you know; and somehow he that Metz, French fashion, must be on the road to Rome. Some one had told him so in fun. However, it was very well for me that I met with him there, for I was to be married, and that without of time."
"But Aimée is a Catholic?"
"That's true! but you see I am not. You don't I would do her any wrong, Roger?" asked Osborne, up in his lounging-chair, and speaking to Roger, his red.
"No! I'm sure you would not it; but, you see, there's a child coming, and this is on 'heirs-male.' Now, I want to know if the marriage is legal or not? and it to me it's a question."
"Oh!" said Osborne, into repose, "if that's all, I you're next heir-male, and I can trust you as I can myself. You know my marriage is bonâ in intention, and I it to be legal in fact. We over to Strasbourg; Aimée up a friend—a good middle-aged Frenchwoman—who as bridesmaid, as chaperone, and then we the mayor—préfet—what do you call them? I think Morrison the spree. I all manner of papers in the prefecture; I did not read them over, for I not them conscientiously. It was the plan. Aimée so I she would faint; and then we off to the nearest English chaplaincy, Carlsruhe, and the was away, so Morrison easily got the of the chapel, and we were married the next day."
"But surely some registration or certificate was necessary?"
"Morrison said he would all those forms; and he ought to know his own business. I know I him well for the job."
"You must be married again," said Roger, after a pause, "and that the child is born. Have you got a certificate of the marriage?"
"I Morrison has got it somewhere. But I I'm legally married according to the laws of England and France; I do, old fellow. I've got the préfet's papers somewhere."
"Never mind! you shall be married again in England. Aimée goes to the Roman Catholic at Prestham, doesn't she?"
"Yes. She is so good I wouldn't her in her religion for the world."
"Then you shall be married there and at the church of the in which she as well," said Roger, decidedly.
"It's a great of trouble, trouble, and expense, I should say," said Osborne. "Why can't you well alone? Neither Aimée I are of the of to turn and the of our marriage; and if the child is a boy and my father dies, and I die, why I'm sure you'll do him justice, as sure as I am of myself, old fellow!"
"But if I die into the bargain? Make a of the present Hamleys all at once, while you are about it. Who succeeds as heir-male?"
Osborne for a moment. "One of the Irish Hamleys, I suppose. I they are chaps. Perhaps you're right. But what need to have such forebodings?"
"The law makes one have in such affairs," said Roger. "So I'll go to Aimée next week when I'm in town, and I'll make all necessary you come. I think you'll be if it is all done."
"I shall be if I've a of the little woman, that I you. But what is taking you up to town? I wish I'd money to about like you, of being up for in this old house."
Osborne was occasionally to his position with Roger's in a of complaint, that were the results of character, and also that out of his Roger gave up so large a for the of his brother's wife. But if this of Osborne's had been set his conscience, he would have his and "Mea culpa" with the best of them; it was only that he was too to keep an conscience.
"I shouldn't have of going up," said Roger, as if he had been of another's money of his own, "if I hadn't had to go up on business. Lord Hollingford has for me; he my great wish for employment, and has of something which he suitable; there's his if you to read it. But it not tell anything definitely."
Osborne read the and returned it to Roger. After a moment or two of he said,—"Why do you want money? Are we taking too much from you? It's a great of me; but what can I do? Only a career for me, and I'll it to-morrow." He spoke as if Roger had been him.
"My dear fellow, don't those into your head! I must do something for myself sometimes, and I've been on the look-out. Besides, I want my father to go on with his drainage; it would do good to his health and his spirits. If I can any part of the money requisite, he and you shall pay me until you can return the capital."
"Roger, you're the of the family," Osborne, by at his brother's conduct, and to it with his own.
So Roger up to London and Osborne him, and for two or three the Gibsons saw nothing of the brothers. But as succeeds to wave, so succeeds to interest. "The family," as they were called, came for their autumn at the Towers, and again the house was full of visitors, and the Towers' servants, and carriages, and were in the two of Hollingford, just as they might have been for of past.
So the of life from day to day. Mrs. Gibson the of with the Towers more personally than Roger's visits, or the calls of Osborne Hamley. Cynthia had an old to the great family who had so much of her mother and so little of her; and she as in some measure the why she had so little of her mother in the days when the little girl had for love and none. Moreover, Cynthia missed her slave, although she did not for Roger one thousandth part of what he did for her; yet she had it not to have a man she respected, and men in respected, the of her eye, the to each scarce-spoken wish, a person in all her were pearls or diamonds, all her graciousness, and in she supreme. She had no about her; and yet she was not vain. She of all this worship; and when from she no longer it, she missed it. The Earl and the Countess, Lord Hollingford and Lady Harriet, and ladies in general, liveries, dresses, of game, and of parties, were as nothing to her to Roger's absence. And yet she did not love him. No, she did not love him. Molly that Cynthia did not love him. Molly angry with her many and many a time as the of this was upon her. Molly did not know her own feelings; Roger had no in what they might be; while his very life-breath to on what Cynthia and thought. Therefore Molly had into her "sister's" heart; and she that Cynthia did not love Roger. Molly have with at the of the at Cynthia's feet; and it would have been a regret. It was the old tenderness: "Do not wish for the moon, O my darling, for I cannot give it thee." Cynthia's love was the moon Roger for; and Molly saw that it was away and out of reach, else would she have her heart-cords to give it to Roger.
"I am his sister," she would say to herself. "That old is not done away with, though he is too much by Cynthia to speak about it just now. His mother called me 'Fanny;' it was almost like an adoption. I must wait and watch, and see if I can do anything for my brother."
One day Lady Harriet came to call on the Gibsons, or on Mrs. Gibson, for the her old if any one else in Hollingford was to be on terms at the great house, or in the least with their plans. Mr. Gibson might possibly know as much, but then he was to secrecy. Out of the house she Mr. Preston as her rival, and he was aware that she did so, and in her by a knowledge of family plans and of of which she was ignorant. Indoors she was of the Lady Harriet had taken for her step-daughter, and she to place in the way of a too the two. These were not the of the in the old story; only of the two presented to the two travellers it from opposite quarters, one of which was silver, and one of which was gold, Lady Harriet saw the and yellow radiance, while Molly only a and lead. To Lady Harriet it was "Molly is gone out; she will be so sorry to miss you, but she was to go to see some old friends of her mother's she ought not to neglect; as I said to her, is everything. It is Sterne, I think, who says, 'Thine own and mother's friends not.' But, dear Lady Harriet, you'll stop till she comes home, won't you? I know how you are of her; in fact" (with a little surface playfulness) "I sometimes say you come more to see her than your old Clare."
To Molly it had been,—
"Lady Harriet is here this morning. I can't have any one else in. Tell Maria to say I'm not at home. Lady Harriet has always so much to tell me. Dear Lady Harriet! I've all her since she was twelve years old. You two girls must keep out of the way. Of she'll ask for you, out of common civility; but you would only us if you came in, as you did the other day;"—now Molly—"I like to say so, but I it was very forward."
"Maria told me she had asked for me," put in Molly, simply.
"Very indeed!" Mrs. Gibson, taking no notice of the interruption, to the to which Molly's little speech had been as a correction.
"I think this time I must secure her from the of such an intrusion, by taking that you are out of the house, Molly. You had go to the Holly Farm, and speak about those I ordered, and which have been sent."
"I'll go," said Cynthia. "It's too long a walk for Molly; she's had a cold, and isn't as as she was a ago. I in long walks. If you want Molly out of the way, mamma, send her to the Miss Brownings'—they are always to see her."
"I said I wanted Molly out of the way, Cynthia," Mrs. Gibson. "You always put in such an exaggerated—I should almost say, so a manner. I am sure, Molly, my love, you have so me; it is only on Lady Harriet's account."
"I don't think I can walk as as the Holly Farm; papa would take the message; Cynthia need not go."
"Well! I'm the last person in the world to tax any one's strength; I'd sooner see again. Suppose you do go and see Miss Browning; you can pay her a long call, you know she that; and ask after Miss Phœbe's cold from me, you know. They were friends of your mother's, my dear, and I would not have you off old for the world. 'Constancy above everything' is my motto, as you know, and the memory of the ought always to be cherished."
"Now, mamma, where am I to go?" asked Cynthia. "Though Lady Harriet doesn't for me as much as she for Molly—indeed, the I should say—yet she might ask after me, and I had be safely out of the way."
"True!" said Mrs. Gibson, meditatively, yet of any in Cynthia's speech.
"She is much less likely to ask for you, my dear: I almost think you might in the house, or you might go to the Holly Farm; I do want the damsons; or you might here in the dining-room, you know, so as to be to prettily, if she take a to for it. She is very fanciful, is dear Lady Harriet! I would not like her to think we any in our she stayed. 'Simple elegance,' as I tell her, 'always is what we at.' But still you put out the best service, and some flowers, and ask cook what there is for dinner that she send us for lunch, and make it all look pretty, and impromptu, and natural. I think you had at home, Cynthia, and then you Molly from Miss Brownings' in the afternoon, you know, and you two take a walk together."
"After Lady Harriet was gone! I understand, mamma. Off with you, Molly. Make haste, or Lady Harriet may come and ask for you as well as mamma. I'll take and where you are going to, so that no one shall learn from me where you are, and I'll answer for mamma's of memory."
"Child! what nonsense you talk; you me with being so silly," said Mrs. Gibson, and as she was with the Lilliputian Cynthia at her. She had to her piece of retaliation—bestowing some on Molly; and this did not Cynthia one whit.
"Molly, darling, there's a very cold wind, though it looks so fine. You had put on my Indian shawl; and it will look so pretty, too, on your gown—scarlet and grey; it's not I would it to, but you're so careful."
"Thank you," said Molly: and she left Mrs. Gibson in careless as to her offer would be or not.
Lady Harriet was sorry to miss Molly, as she was of the girl; but as she perfectly with Mrs. Gibson's about "constancy" and "old friends," she saw no occasion for saying any more about the affair, but sat in a little low chair with her on the fender. This said was of bright, steel, and was to all and feet; the position, if they it, was low-bred and vulgar.
"That's right, dear Lady Harriet! you can't think what a it is to me to welcome you at my own fireside, into my home."
"Humble! now, Clare, that's a little of nonsense, your pardon. I don't call this little drawing-room a of a 'humble home.' It's as full of comforts, and of too, as any room of its size can be."
"Ah! how small you must it! I had to myself to it at first."
"Well! your was larger, but how it was, how empty of anything but tables, and forms, and mats. Oh, indeed, Clare, I agree with mamma, who always says you have done very well for yourself; and Mr. Gibson too! What an agreeable, well-informed man!"
"Yes, he is," said his wife, slowly, as if she did not like to her rôle of a to immediately. "He is very agreeable, very; only we see so little of him; and of he comes home and hungry, and not to talk to his own family, and to go to sleep."
"Come, come!" said Lady Harriet, "I'm going to have my turn now. We've had the of a doctor's wife, now the of a peer's daughter. Our house is so with visitors! and to-day I have come to you for a little solitude."
"Solitude!" Mrs. Gibson. "Would you be alone?" aggrieved.
"No, you dear woman; my a listener, to I may say, 'How sweet is solitude!' But I am of the of entertaining. Papa is so open-hearted, he every friend he meets with to come and pay us a visit. Mamma is a great invalid, but she not choose to give up her for good health, having always a want of self-control. So she and by a of people who are all of them open-mouthed for of some kind; just like a of in a nest; so I have to be parent-bird, and into their yellow bills, to them I can think of where to the next. Oh, it's 'entertaining' in the largest, literalist, of the word. So I have told a this morning, and come off here for and the of complaining!"
Lady Harriet herself in her chair, and yawned; Mrs. Gibson took one of her ladyship's hands in a soft manner, and murmured,—
"Poor Lady Harriet!" and then she affectionately.
After a pause Lady Harriet started up and said—"I used to take you as my of when I was a little girl. Tell me, do you think it to tell lies?"
"Oh, my dear! how can you ask such questions?—of it is very wrong,—very indeed, I think I may say. But I know you were only joking when you said you had told lies."
"No, indeed, I wasn't. I told as as you would wish to hear. I said I 'was to go into Hollingford on business,' when the truth was there was no in the matter, only an of being free from my visitors for an hour or two, and my only was to come here, and yawn, and complain, and at my leisure. I think I'm at having told a story, as children it."
"But, my dear Lady Harriet," said Mrs. Gibson, a little puzzled as to the exact meaning of the that were on her tongue, "I am sure you that you meant what you said, when you said it."
"No, I didn't," put in Lady Harriet.
"And besides, if you didn't, it was the fault of the people who you into such straits—yes, it was their fault, not yours—and then you know the of society—ah, what they are!"
Lady Harriet was for a minute or two; then she said,—"Tell me, Clare; you've told sometimes, haven't you?"
"Lady Harriet! I think you might have me better; but I know you don't it, dear."
"Yes, I do. You must have told white lies, at any rate. How did you after them?"
"I should have been if I had. I should have died of self-reproach. 'The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,' has always to me such a passage. But then I have so much that is in my nature, and in our of life there are so temptations. If we are humble, we are also simple, and by etiquette."
"Then you me very much? If somebody else will me, I sha'n't be so at what I said this morning."
"I am sure I you, not in my heart, dear Lady Harriet. Blame you, indeed! That would be in me."
"I think I shall set up a confessor! and it sha'n't be you, Clare, for you have always been only too to me."
After a pause she said,—"Can you give me some lunch, Clare? I don't to go home till three. My 'business' will take me till then, as the people at the Towers are informed."
"Certainly. I shall be delighted! but you know we are very in our habits."
"Oh, I only want a little bread-and-butter, and a slice of cold meat—you must not give any trouble, Clare—perhaps you now? let me just like one of your family."
"Yes, you shall; I won't make any alteration;—it will be so to have you our family meal, dear Lady Harriet. But we late, we only now. How low the fire is getting; I am in the of this tête-à-tête!"
So she twice; with great distinctness, and with a long pause the rings. Maria in coals.
But the was as well by Cynthia as the "Hall of Apollo" was by the of Lucullus. The of that were to have been for the late dinner were put to the fire; and the out, and the table with flowers and fruit, with all Cynthia's and taste. So that when the was announced, and Lady Harriet entered the room, she not but think her hostess's had been unnecessary; and be more and more that Clare had done very well for herself. Cynthia now joined the party, and as she always was; but somehow she did not take Lady Harriet's fancy; she only noticed her on account of her being her mother's daughter. Her presence the more general, and Lady Harriet gave out pieces of news, none of them of any great to her, but as what had been talked about by the circle of visitors assembled at the Towers.
"Lord Hollingford ought to have been with us," she said, other things; "but he is obliged, or himself obliged, which is all the same thing, to in town about this Crichton legacy!"
"A legacy? To Lord Hollingford? I am so glad!"
"Don't be in a to be glad! It's nothing for him but trouble. Didn't you of that rich Mr. Crichton, who died some time ago, and—fired by the example of Lord Bridgewater, I suppose—left a of money in the hands of trustees, of my is one, to send out a man with a thousand qualifications, to make a scientific voyage, with a view to of the of lands, and so the of a which is to be called the Crichton Museum, and so the founder's name. Such man's take! Sometimes it philanthropy; sometimes a love of science!"
"It to me a very and useful object, I am sure," said Mrs. Gibson, safely.
"I it is, taking it from the public-good view. But it's to us privately, for it Hollingford in town—or it and Cambridge—and each place as and empty as can be, just when we want him at the Towers. The thing ought to have been long ago, and there's some of the lapsing. The two other have away to the Continent, feeling, as they say, the in him, but in their responsibilities. However, I he it, so I ought not to grumble. He thinks he is going to be very successful in the choice of his man—and he to this county, too,—young Hamley of Hamley, if he can only his college to let him go, for he is a Fellow of Trinity, senior or something; and they're not so as to send their man to be up by lions and tigers!"
"It must be Roger Hamley!" Cynthia, her brightening, and her flushing.
"He's not the son; he can be called Hamley of Hamley!" said Mrs. Gibson.
"Hollingford's man is a Fellow of Trinity, as I said before."
"Then it is Mr. Roger Hamley," said Cynthia; "and he's up in London about some business! What news for Molly when she comes home!"
"Why, what has Molly to do with it?" asked Lady Harriet. "Is—?" and she looked into Mrs. Gibson's for an answer. Mrs. Gibson in reply gave an and very at Cynthia, who did not it.
"Oh, no! not at all,"—and Mrs. Gibson a little at her daughter, as much as to say, "If any one, that."
Lady Harriet to look at the Miss Kirkpatrick with fresh interest; her had spoken in such a manner of this Mr. Hamley that every one with the phœnix was of observation. Then, as if the mention of Molly's name had her into her mind, Lady Harriet said,—"And where is Molly all this time? I should like to see my little mentor. I she is very much since those days."
"Oh! when she once with the Miss Brownings, she when to come home," said Mrs. Gibson.
"The Miss Brownings? Oh! I'm so you named them! I'm very of them. Pecksy and Flapsy; I may call them so in Molly's absence. I'll go and see them I go home, and then I shall see my dear little Molly too. Do you know, Clare, I've taken a to that girl!"
So Mrs. Gibson, after all her precautions, had to submit to Lady Harriet's her half-an-hour than she otherwise would have done in order to "make herself common" (as Mrs. Gibson it) by calling on the Miss Brownings.
But Molly had left Lady Harriet arrived.
Molly the long walk to the Holly Farm, to order the damsons, out of a of penitence. She had of anger at being sent out of the house by such a manœuvre as that which her had employed. Of she did not meet Cynthia, so she alone along the lanes, with and high hedge-banks not at all in the of modern agriculture. At she herself with herself as to how it was right to the small failings—the webs, the of truth which had in their since her father's second marriage. She that very often she to protest, but did not do it, from the of her father any discord; and she saw by his that he, too, was occasionally aware of that gave him pain, as that his wife's of was not as high as he would have liked. It was a wonder to Molly this was right or wrong. With a girl's want of toleration, and want of to teach her the of circumstances, and of temptation, she had often been on the point of telling her some home truths. But, possibly, her father's example of silence, and often some piece of on Mrs. Gibson's part (for after her way, and when in a good temper, she was very to Molly), her her tongue.
That night at dinner, Mrs. Gibson the herself and Lady Harriet, it a very colouring, as was her wont, and telling nearly the whole of what had passed, although that there was a great said which was so purely confidential, that she was in not to repeat it. Her three to her without her much—indeed, without attention on what she was saying, until she came to the of Lord Hollingford's in London, and the for it.
"Roger Hamley going off on a scientific expedition!" Mr. Gibson, into vivacity.
"Yes. At least it is not settled finally; but as Lord Hollingford is the only who takes any interest—and being Lord Cumnor's son—it is next to certain."
"I think I must have a voice in the matter," said Mr. Gibson; and he into silence, his ears open, however, henceforward.
"How long will he be away?" asked Cynthia. "We shall miss him sadly."
Molly's an "yes" to this remark, but no was heard. There was a in her ears as if the others were going on with the conversation, but the they and blurred; they were conjectures, and did not with the one great piece of news. To the of the party she appeared to be her dinner as usual, and, if she were silent, there was one the more to Mrs. Gibson's of prattle, and Mr. Gibson's and Cynthia's remarks.
