DOMESTIC DIPLOMACY.
The of the day on which Mr. Gibson had been to see the Squire, the three were alone in the drawing-room, for Mr. Gibson had had a long and was not as yet come in. They had had to wait dinner for him; and for some time after his return there was nothing done or said but what related to the necessary of eating. Mr. Gibson was, perhaps, as well satisfied with his day's work as any of the four; for this visit to the Squire had been on his mind since he had of the of Roger and Cynthia. He did not like the having to go and tell of a love-affair so soon after he had his that no such thing existed; it was a of which is to most men. If the Squire had not been of so and a nature, he might have his own from the of facts, and of Mr. Gibson's perfect in the business; but being what he was, there was no of such misapprehension. Still Mr. Gibson the he had to with, and had more of language than he encountered; and the last by which Cynthia, her mother, and Molly—who, as Mr. Gibson to himself, and at the thought, was sure to be a peacemaker, and a of intercourse—were to go to the Hall and make with the Squire, appeared like a great success to Mr. Gibson, for which he took not a little to himself. Altogether, he was more and than he had been for many days; and when he came up into the drawing-room for a minutes after dinner, going out again to see his town patients, he a little under his breath, as he with his to the fire, looking at Cynthia, and that he had not done her when her to the Squire. Now this soft, almost whistling, was to Mr. Gibson what is to a cat. He no more have done it with an case on his mind, or when he was by folly, or when he was hungry, than he have through the air. Molly all this by instinct, and was happy without being aware of it, as soon as she the low which was no music after all. But Mrs. Gibson did not like this of her husband's; it was not she thought, not "artistic;" if she have called it by this word it would have her for the want of refinement. To-night it was particularly to her nerves; but since her with Mr. Gibson about Cynthia's engagement, she had not herself in a good position to complain.
Mr. Gibson began,—"Well, Cynthia; I've the Squire to-day, and a clean of it."
Cynthia looked up quickly, with her eyes; Molly stopped her to listen; no one spoke.
"You're all to go there on Thursday to lunch; he asked you all, and I promised for you."
Still no reply; natural, perhaps, but very flat.
"You'll be of that, Cynthia, shan't you?" asked Mr. Gibson. "It may be a little formidable, but I it will be the of a good you."
"Thank you!" said she, with an effort. "But—but won't it make it public? I do so wish not to have it known, or talked about, not till he comes or close upon the marriage."
"I don't see how it should make it public," said Mr. Gibson. "My wife goes to with my friend, and takes her with her—there's nothing in that, is there?"
"I am not sure that I shall go," put in Mrs. Gibson. She did not know why she said it, for she to go all the time; but having said it, she was to to it for a little while; and, with such a husband as hers, the hard was sure to upon her of having to a for her saying. Then it came, quick and sharp.
"Why not?" said he, upon her.
"Oh, because—because I think he ought to have called on Cynthia first; I've that of I can't to think of her being she is poor."
"Nonsense!" said Mr. Gibson. "I do you, no was intended. He not wish to speak about the to any one—not to Osborne—that's your wish, too, isn't it, Cynthia? Nor he to mention it to any of you when you go there; but, naturally enough, he wants to make with his daughter-in-law. If he so much from his as to come calling here—"
"I am sure I don't want him to come calling here," said Mrs. Gibson, interrupting. "He was not so very the only time he did come. But I am that of a that I cannot put up with any neglect of I love, just they are not upon by fortune." She a little as she ended her sentence.
"Well, then, you won't go!" said Mr. Gibson, provoked, but not to have a long discussion, as he his going.
"Do you wish it, Cynthia?" said Mrs. Gibson, for an to yield.
But her was aware of this for the question, and quietly,—"Not particularly, mamma. I am to the invitation."
"It is already accepted," said Mr. Gibson, almost to that he would again in any in which were concerned, which would him out from all love-affairs for the future. He had been touched by the Squire's relenting, pleased with what he had would give others pleasure, and this was the end of it!
"Oh, do go, Cynthia!" said Molly, with her as well as her words. "Do; I am sure you will like the Squire; and it is such a place, and he'll be so much disappointed."
"I should not like to give up my dignity," said Cynthia, demurely. "And you what said!"
It was very of her. She to go, and was sure that her mother was already her dress for the occasion in her own mind. Mr. Gibson, however, who, though he was, had learnt to a woman's heart, took it all literally, and was angry with Cynthia and her mother; so angry that he did not to trust himself to speak. He to the door, to the room; but his wife's voice him; she said,—
"My dear, do you wish me to go? if you do, I will put my own on one side."
"Of I do!" he said, and stern, and left the room.
"Then I'll go!" said she, in the voice of a victim—those were meant for him, but he them. "And we'll have a from the 'George,' and a livery-coat for Thomas, which I've long been wanting, only dear Mr. Gibson did not like it, but on an occasion like this I'm sure he won't mind; and Thomas shall go on the box, and—"
"But, mamma, I've my too," said Cynthia.
"Nonsense, child! when all is so too."
So they on the day appointed. Mr. Gibson was aware of the of plans, and that they were going after all; but he was so much by the manner in which his wife had an that appeared to him so much than he had from his previous knowledge of the Squire, and his on the of his sons' marriage, that Mrs. Gibson neither by her husband as to the visit itself, or the they met with. Cynthia's as to the was or not had Mr. Gibson. He was not up to her with her mother, and did not how much of this said had been in order to Mrs. Gibson's and false sentiment. But for all his on the subject, he was, in fact, very to know how the visit had gone off, and took the opportunity of being alone with Molly to question her about the of the day at Hamley Hall.
"And so you to Hamley yesterday after all?"
"Yes; I you would have come. The Squire to you."
"I of going there at first; but I my mind like other people. I don't see why are to have a of changeableness. Well! how did it go off? Pleasantly, I suppose, for your mother and Cynthia were in high last night."
"Yes. The dear old Squire was in his best dress and on his best behaviour, and was so to Cynthia, and she looked so lovely, walking about with him, and to all his talk about the garden and farm. Mamma was tired, and stopped in-doors, so they got on very well, and saw a great of each other."
"And my little girl behind?"
"Oh, yes. You know I was almost at home, and besides—of course—" Molly very red, and left the unfinished.
"Do you think she's of him?" asked her father, just as if she had her speech.
"Of Roger, papa? oh, who is? But she is very sweet, and very, very charming."
"Very if you will, but somehow I don't her. Why she want all this secrecy? Why was she not more to go and pay her to Roger's father? She took it as as if I'd asked her to go to church!"
"I don't think she did take it coolly; I I don't her either, but I love her all the same."
"Umph; I like to people thoroughly, but I know it's not necessary to women. D'ye think she's of him?"
"Oh, papa—" said Molly, and then she stopped; she wanted to speak in of Cynthia, but somehow she no reply that pleased her to this inquiry. He did not much to he got an answer or not, for he on with his own thoughts, and the result was that he asked Molly if Cynthia had from Roger.
"Yes; on Wednesday morning."
"Did she it to you? But of not. Besides, I read the Squire's letter, which told all about him."
Now Cynthia, to Molly's surprise, had told her that she might read the if she liked, and Molly had from herself of the permission, for Roger's sake. She that he would have out his to the one person, and that it was not to listen, as it were, to his confidences.
"Was Osborne at home?" asked Mr. Gibson. "The Squire said he did not think he would have come back; but the is so uncertain—"
"No, he was still from home." Then Molly all over crimson, for it her that Osborne was with his wife—that wife, of she was cognizant, but of she so little, and of her father nothing. Mr. Gibson noticed the with anxiety. What did it mean? It was to that one of the Squire's sons had in love the ranks; and what would not have to be said and done if anything fresh were to come out Osborne and Molly? He spoke out at once to himself of this new apprehension.
"Molly, I was taken by by this Cynthia and Roger Hamley—if there's anything more on the let me know at once, and openly. I know it's an question for you to reply to; but I wouldn't ask it unless I had good reasons." He took her hand as he spoke. She looked up at him with clear, eyes, which with as she spoke. She did not know why the came; it was she was not so as formerly.
"If you that you're that Osborne thinks of me as Roger thinks of Cynthia, papa, you are mistaken. Osborne and I are friends and nothing more, and can be anything more. That's all I can tell you."
"It's enough, little one. It's a great relief. I don't want to have my Molly off by any man just yet; I should miss her sadly." He not help saying this in the of his just then, but he was at the these produced. Molly her arms his neck, and to bitterly, her on his shoulder. "There, there!" said he, her on the back, and leading her to the sofa, "that will do. I of in the day, for causes, not to want them at home, where, I hope, they are for no at all. There's nothing the matter, is there, my dear?" he continued, her a little away from him that he might look in her face. She at him through her tears; and he did not see the look of which returned to her after he had left her.
"Nothing, dear, dear papa—nothing now. It is such a to have you all to myself—it makes me happy."
Mr. Gibson all in these words, and that there was no help for the of which had from his own act. It was for them that they should not speak out more fully. So he her, and said,—
"That's right, dear! I can you in now, and I've too long already gossiping. Go out and have a walk—take Cynthia with you, if you like. I must be off. Good-by, little one."
His like an on Molly's feelings. He that they should do so; it was the to her; but he walked away from her with a at his heart, which he into as soon as he by himself into the and of others.
