BRIGHTENING PROSPECTS.
Illustrationt was a day or two afterwards, that Mr. Gibson time to by Hamley, to learn more exact particulars of this for Roger than he obtain from any source, and puzzled to know he should in the project or not. The of the case was this:—Osborne's were, in Mr. Gibson's opinion, of his having a disease. Dr. Nicholls had from him on this head, and Mr. Gibson that the old physician had had long experience, and was very in the profession. Still he that he himself was right, and, if so, the was one which might continue for years in the same as at present, or might end the man's life in an hour—a minute. Supposing that Mr. Gibson was right, would it be well for Roger to be away where no calls for his presence him—away for two years? Yet if the was concluded, the of a medical man might the very to be feared; and after all, Dr. Nicholls might be right, and the might from some other cause. Might? Yes. Probably did? No. Mr. Gibson not himself to say "yes" to this of sentence. So he on, meditating; his slack, his a little bent. It was one of those still and autumn days when the red and yellow are hanging-pegs to dewy, gossamer-webs; when the are full of brambles, with blackberries; when the air is full of the and pipes of birds, clear and short—not the long full-throated of spring; when the of the partridge's is in the stubble-fields, as the hoof-blows on the lanes; when here and there a and to the ground, although there is not a single of wind. The country the of the more than most men. He saw more of it by day, by night, in and sunshine, or in the still, soft, cloudy weather. He spoke about what he on the subject; indeed, he did not put his into words, to himself. But if his mood approached to the sentimental, it was on such days as this. He into the stable-yard, gave his to a man, and into the house by a entrance. In the passage he met the Squire.
"That's capital, Gibson! what good wind you here? You'll have some lunch? it's on the table, I only just this minute left the room." And he Mr. Gibson's hand all the time till he had him, nothing loth, at the well-covered dining-table.
"What's this I about Roger?" said Mr. Gibson, at once into the subject.
"Aha! so you've heard, have you? It's famous, isn't it? He's a boy to be proud of, is old Roger. Steady Roger; we used to think him slow, but it to me that slow and sure the race. But tell me; what have you heard? how much is known? Nay, you must have a full. It's old ale, such as we don't now-a-days; it's as old as Osborne. We it that autumn, and we called it the squire's ale. I to have it on his marriage, but I don't know when that will come to pass, so we've it now in Roger's honour."
The old had been the squire's to the of prudence. It was as he said, "as as brandy," and Mr. Gibson had to it very as he ate his cold beef.
"Well! and what have you heard? There's a to hear, and all good news, though I shall miss the lad, I know that."
"I did not know it was settled; I only that it was in progress."
"Well, it was only in progress, as you call it, till last Tuesday. He let me know anything about it, though; he says he I might be with of the pros and cons. So I a word on't till I had a from my Lord Hollingford—where is it?" out a great black for all manner of papers. And on his spectacles, he read their headings.
"'Measurement of timber, new railings,' 'drench for cows, from Farmer Hayes,' 'Dobson's accounts,'—'um 'um—here it is. Now read that letter," it to Mr. Gibson.
It was a manly, feeling, letter, to the old father in very language the services which were by the terms of the will to which he and two or three others were trustees; the for expenses, the still more for performance, which had men of to offer themselves as for the appointment. Lord Hollingford then on to say that, having a good of Roger lately, since the of his article in reply to the French osteologist, he had had to think that in him the would the in a measure than in any of the who had at that time presented themselves. Roger had in the subject; much knowledge, and at the same time, great natural powers of comparison, and of facts; he had himself to be an of a and kind; he was of the right age, in the very of health and strength, and by any family ties. Here Mr. Gibson paused for consideration. He to by what steps the result had been at—he already what that result was; but his mind was again as his on the offered, which was most liberal; and then he read with attention the high on the son in this to the father. The Squire had been Mr. Gibson—waiting till he came to this part—and he his hands together as he said,—
"Ay! you've come to it at last. It's the best part of the whole, isn't it? God the boy! and from a Whig, mind you, which makes it the more handsome. And there's more to come still. I say, Gibson, I think my luck is at last," him on yet another to read. "That only came this morning; but I've on it already, I sent for the of the at once, I did; and to-morrow, God, they'll be at work again."
Mr. Gibson read the second letter, from Roger. To a it was a of what Lord Hollingford had said, with an of how he had come to take so a step in life without his father. He did not wish him to be in for one reason. Another was that he felt, as no one else for him, that by this offer, he entered upon the of life for which he himself to be most fitted. And then he the whole into business. He said that he well the his father had gone through when he had had to give up his for want of money; that he, Roger, had been at once to money upon the he was to on the of his two years' work; and that he had also his life, in order to provide for the of the money he had raised, in case he did not live to return to England. He said that the he had on this security would at once be to his father.
Mr. Gibson the without speaking a word for some time; then he said,—"He'll have to pay a for his life seas."
"He's got his Fellowship money," said the Squire, a little at Mr. Gibson's remark.
"Yes; that's true. And he's a fellow, as I know."
"I wish I tell his mother," said the Squire in an under-tone
"It all settled now," said Mr. Gibson, more in reply to his own than to the Squire's remark.
"Yes!" said the Squire; "and they're not going to let the under his feet. He's to be off as soon as he can his scientific ready. I almost wish he wasn't to go. You don't to like it, doctor?"
"Yes, I do," said Mr. Gibson in a more than before. "It can't be helped now without doing a mischief," he to himself. "Why, Squire, I think it a great to have such a son. I you, that's what I do. Here's a of three or four and twenty himself in more than one, and as and at home as any need to be—not a set up."
"Ay, ay; he's twice as much a son to me as Osborne, who has been all his life set up on nothing at all, as one may say."
"Come, Squire, I mustn't anything against Osborne; we may one, without at the other. Osborne hasn't had the health which has Roger to work as he has done. I met a man who his at Trinity the other day, and of we about Roger—it's not every day that one can a senior one's friends, and I'm nearly as proud of the as you are. This Mr. Mason told me the said that only of Roger's success was to his powers; the other was to his perfect health, which him to work and more than most men without suffering. He said that in all his he had any one with an equal for labour; and that he come again with a fresh to his after of than most. Now I, being a doctor, a good of his to the material of a good constitution, which Osborne hasn't got."
"Osborne might have, if he got out o' doors more," said the Squire, moodily; "but when he can into Hollingford he doesn't to go out at all. I hope," he continued, with a of at Mr. Gibson, "he's not after one of your girls? I don't any offence, you know; but he'll have the estate, and it won't be free, and he must money. I don't think I allow it in Roger; but Osborne's the son, you know."
Mr. Gibson reddened; he was for a moment. Then the truth of what the Squire said was presented to his mind, and he their old friendship, so he spoke quietly, if shortly.
"I don't there's anything of the going on. I'm not much at home, you know; but I've or anything that should make me that there is. When I do, I'll let you know."
"Now, Gibson, don't go and be offended. I'm for the boys to have a house to go to, and I thank you and Mrs. Gibson for making it pleasant. Only keep off love; it can come to no good. That's all. I don't Osborne will earn a to keep a wife my life, and if I were to die to-morrow, she would have to some money to clear the estate. And if I do speak as I shouldn't have done formerly—a little or so—why, it's I've been by many a no one anything of."
"I'm not going to take offence," said Mr. Gibson, "but let us each other clearly. If you don't want your sons to come as much to my house as they do, tell them so yourself. I like the lads, and am to see them; but if they do come, you must take the consequences, they are, and not me, or them either, for what may from the two men and two women; and what is more, though, as I said, I see nothing of the you at present, and have promised to tell you of the I do see, yet than that I won't go. If there's an at any time, I won't interfere."
"I shouldn't so much mind if Roger in love with your Molly. He can for himself, you see, and she's an girl. My wife was so of her," answered the Squire. "It's Osborne and the I'm of!"
"Well, then, tell him not to come near us. I shall be sorry, but you will be safe."
"I'll think about it; but he's difficult to manage. I've always to my blood well up I can speak my mind to him."
Mr. Gibson was the room, but at these he and his hand on the Squire's arm.
"Take my advice, Squire. As I said, there's no done as yet, as as I know. Prevention is than cure. Speak out, but speak to Osborne, and do it at once. I shall how it is if he doesn't his for some months in my house. If you speak to him, he'll take the as from a friend. If he can you there's no danger, of he'll come just as usual, when he likes."
It was all very the Squire this good advice; but as Osborne had already the very of marriage his father most deprecated, it did not act as well as Mr. Gibson had hoped. The Squire the with self-control; but he when Osborne his father's right to in any marriage he might contemplate; it with a of and of the that the Squire into one of his passions; and although, on after reflection, he that he had his son's promise and word not to think of either Cynthia or Molly for his wife, yet the father and son had passed through one of those which help to men for life. Each had said to the other; and, if the had not been so true Osborne and Roger, they too might have alienated, in of the Squire's and of their and deeds. But as Roger in his had loved Osborne too well to be of the and love which the son, the lad, had received, to the of his own plain and slowness, so now Osborne against any of or with all his might; but his were conscious, Roger's had been the of affection, and the end to Osborne was that he and in mind and body; but father and son their in Roger's presence. When he came home just sailing, and happy, the Squire his energy, and Osborne looked up and was cheerful.
There was no time to be lost. He was to a climate, and must take all possible of the winter months. He was to go to Paris, to have with some of the scientific men there. Some of his outfit, instruments, &c., were to him to Havre, from which port he was to embark, after his in Paris. The Squire learnt all his and plans, and in after-dinner to into the questions in the his son was about to make. But Roger's visit home not be two days.
The last day he into Hollingford than he needed to have done to catch the London coach, in order to the Gibsons good-by. He had been too for some time to have to much on Cynthia; but there was no need for fresh on that subject. Her image as a prize to be for, to be for seven years, and seven years more, was safe and in his heart. It was very bad, this going away, and her good-by for two long years; and he much his how he should be in telling her mother, in telling her own sweet self, what his were without expecting, nay, reprobating, any answer on her part. Then she would know at any how she was by one who was absent; how in all or the of her would be a star, high up in the heavens, and so on, and so on; for with all a lover's of and of fancy, he called her a star, a flower, a nymph, a witch, an angel, or a mermaid, a nightingale, a siren, as one or another of her rose up him.
