HOLLINGFORD GOSSIPS.
Illustrationy dear Molly, why didn't you come and with us? I said to sister I would come and you well. Oh, Mr. Osborne Hamley, is that you?" and a look of at the tête-à-tête she had came so over Miss Phœbe's that Molly Osborne's eye, and at the notion.
"I'm sure I—well! one must sometimes—I see our dinner would have been—" Then she herself into a sentence. "We only just of Mrs. Gibson's having a from the 'George,' sister sent our Nancy to pay for a of Tom Ostler had snared, (I we shan't be taken up for poachers, Mr. Osborne—snaring doesn't a licence, I believe?) and she he was gone off with the to the Towers with your dear mamma; for Coxe who the in has his ankle. We had just dinner, but when Nancy said Tom Ostler would not be till night, I said, 'Why, there's that dear girl left all alone by herself, and her mother such a friend of ours,'—when she was alive, I mean. But I'm sure I'm I'm mistaken."
Osborne said,—"I came to speak to Mr. Gibson, not he had gone to London, and Miss Gibson gave me some of her lunch. I must go now."
"Oh dear! I am so sorry," out Miss Phœbe, "I you; but it was with the best intentions. I always was mal-àpropos from a child." But Osborne was gone she had her apologies. As he left, his met Molly's with a look of that her at the time, and that she afterwards. "Such a thing, and I came in the midst, and it all. I am sure you're very kind, my dear, considering—"
"Considering what, my dear Miss Phœbe? If you are a love Mr. Osborne Hamley and me, you were more in your life. I think I told you so once before. Please do me."
"Oh, yes! I remember. And somehow sister got it into her it was Mr. Preston. I recollect."
"One is just as as the other," said Molly, smiling, and trying to look perfectly indifferent, but going red at the mention of Mr. Preston's name. It was very difficult for her to keep up any conversation, for her was full of Osborne—his appearance, his of foreboding, and his about his wife—French, Catholic, servant. Molly not help trying to piece these together by of her own, and it very hard work to to Miss Phœbe's patter. She came up to the point, however, when the voice ceased; and recall, in a manner, the echo of the last words, which from Miss Phœbe's look, and the that in Molly's ear, she to be a question. Miss Phœbe was her if she would go out with her. She was going to Grinstead's, the of Hollingford; who, in to his regular business, was the agent for the Hollingford Book Society, their subscriptions, their accounts, ordered their books from London, and, on payment of a small salary, allowed the Society to keep their on in his shop. It was the centre of news, and the club, as it were, of the little town. Everybody who to in the place to it. It was a test of gentility, indeed, than of education or a love of literature. No shopkeeper would have of himself as a member, great his and love of reading; while it on its list of most of the families in the neighbourhood, some of to it as a of to their station, without often using their of reading the books: while there were in the little town, such as Mrs. Goodenough, who privately reading a great waste of time, that might be much in sewing, and knitting, and pastry-making, but who to it as a mark of station, just as these good, would have it a terrible come-down in the world if they had not had a servant-maid to them home from the tea-parties at night. At any rate, Grinstead's was a very place for a lounge. In that view of the Book Society every one agreed.
Molly to to Miss Phœbe; and on opening one of her she saw Cynthia's envelope, the money she to Mr. Preston, sealed up like a letter. This was what Molly had so promised to deliver—the last final to the affair. Molly took it up, it. For a time she had it; and now it was here, her, and she must try and of it. She put it into her pocket for the of the walk and the day, and for once to her; for, on their entering Grinstead's shop, in which two or three people were now, as always, congregated, making play of the books, or of the titles of new in the order-book, there was Mr. Preston. He as they came in. He not help that; but, at the of Molly, he looked as ill-tempered and out of as a man well do. She was in his mind with and mortification; and besides, the of her called up what he now, above all things, to forget; namely, the conviction, through Molly's earnestness, of Cynthia's to him. If Miss Phœbe had the upon his face, she might have her sister in her about him and Molly. But Miss Phœbe, who did not it to go and close to Mr. Preston, and survey the of books in such close to a gentleman, herself an at the other end of the shop, and herself in writing-paper. Molly her valuable letter, as it in her pocket; did she to over to Mr. Preston, and give it to him, or not? While she was still undecided, always just at the moment when she she had got her up for action, Miss Phœbe, having her purchase, round, and after looking a little at Mr. Preston's back, said to Molly in a whisper—"I think we'll go to Johnson's now, and come for the books in a little while." So across the to Johnson's they went; but no sooner had they entered the draper's shop, than Molly's her for her cowardice, and of a good opportunity. "I'll be directly," said she, as soon as Miss Phœbe was with her purchases; and Molly ran across to Grinstead's, without looking either to the right or the left; she had been the door, and she that no Mr. Preston had forth. She ran in; he was at the now, talking to Grinstead himself; Molly put the into his hand, to his surprise, and almost against his will, and to go to Miss Phœbe. At the door of the shop Mrs. Goodenough, in the act of entering, staring, with her eyes, still and more owl-like by spectacles, to see Molly Gibson Mr. Preston a letter, which he, of being watched, and habitually, put into his pocket, unopened. Perhaps, if he had had time for he would not have to put Molly to open shame, by what she so upon him.
There was another long to be got through with Mrs. Gibson; but on this occasion there was the of dinner, which took up at least an hour; for it was one of Mrs. Gibson's fancies—one which Molly against—to have every gone through in the same manner for two as for twenty. So, although Molly full well, and her full well, and Maria full well, that neither Mrs. Gibson Molly touched dessert, it was set on the table with as much as if Cynthia had been at home, who in and raisins; or Mr. Gibson been there, who dates, though he always against "persons in their station of life having a set out them every day."
And Mrs. Gibson herself apologized, as it were, to Molly to-day, in the same she had often used to Mr. Gibson,—"It's no extravagance, for we need not eat it—I do. But it looks well, and makes Maria what is in the daily life of every family of position."
All through the Molly's and wide, though she managed to keep up a of attention to what Mrs. Gibson was saying. She was of Osborne, and his abrupt, half-finished confidence, and his ill-looks; she was when Roger would come home, and for his return, as much (she said to herself) for Osborne's as for her own. And then she herself. What had she to do with Roger? Why should she long for his return? It was Cynthia who was doing this; only somehow he was such a true friend to Molly, that she not help of him as a staff and a in the times which appeared to not ahead—this evening. Then Mr. Preston and her little with him came uppermost. How angry he looked! How Cynthia have liked him to into this scrape, which was, however, all over now! And so she ran on in her and imaginations, little that that very night much talk was going on not half-a-mile from where she sewing, that would prove that the "scrape" (as she called it, in her phraseology) was not all over.
Scandal in the summer, speaking. Its nature is the of that of the dormouse. Warm air, abroad, gardenings, flowers to talk about, and to make, the to in the of Hollingford in summer-time. But when short, and people the fires, and put their in a circle—not on the fenders, that was not allowed—then was the time for conversation! Or in the allowed for the tea-trays to among the card-tables—when those who were to stop the warm about "the odd trick," and the way of "shouldering the crutch, and how were won"—small and of daily news came up to the surface, such as "Martindale has the price of his best joints a in the pound;" or, "It's a of Sir Harry to order in another book on into the Book Society; Phœbe and I to read it, but there is no in it;" or, "I wonder what Mr. Ashton will do, now Nancy is going to be married! Why, she's been with him these seventeen years! It's a very thing for a woman of her age to be of matrimony; and so I told her, when I met her in the market-place this morning!"
So said Miss Browning on the night in question; her hand of cards by her on the baize-covered table, while she the rich pound-cake of a Mrs. Dawes, come to Hollingford.
"Matrimony's not so as you think for, Miss Browning," said Mrs. Goodenough, up for the into which she had twice entered. "If I'd ha' Nancy, I should ha' her my mind very different. It's a great thing to be able to settle what you'll have for dinner, without a one with you."
"If that's all!" said Miss Browning, herself up, "I can do that; and, perhaps, than a woman who has a husband to please."
"No one can say as I didn't my husbands—both on 'em, though Jeremy was in his tastes than Harry Beaver. But as I used to say to 'em, 'Leave the to me; it's for you than what's to come beforehand. The to be taken by surprise.' And neither of 'em 'em of their confidence. You may take my word for it, and will taste (and Mr. Ashton's Nancy in her own house) than all the and she's been a-doing for him this seventeen years. But if I chose, I tell you of something as would you all a more than old Nancy's marriage to a with nine children—only as the themselves is meeting in private, clandestine-like, it's not for me to tell their secrets."
"I'm sure I don't want to of men and women," said Miss Browning, up her head. "It's to the people themselves, I consider, if they enter on a love without the proper of parents. I know public opinion has on the subject; but when Gratia was married to Mr. Byerley, he to my father without having so much as paid her a compliment, or said more than the most and to her; and my father and mother sent for her into my father's study, and she said she was so much in her life,—and they said it was a very good offer, and Mr. Byerley was a very man, and they she would properly to him when he came to supper that night. And after that he was allowed to come twice a week till they were married. My mother and I at our work in the bow-window of the Rectory drawing-room, and Gratia and Mr. Byerley at the other end; and my mother always called my attention to some flower or plant in the garden when it nine, for that was his time for going. Without to the present company, I am to look upon as a to which some very people are prone; but if they must be married, let them make the best of it, and go through the with and propriety: or if there are and meetings, and such things, at any rate, let me about them! I think it's you to play, Mrs. Dawes. You'll my on the of matrimony! Mrs. Goodenough there can tell you I'm a very out-spoken person."
"It's not the out-speaking, it's what you say that goes against me, Miss Browning," said Mrs. Goodenough, affronted, yet to play her card as soon as needed. And as for Mrs. Dawes, she was too to into the of all (Hollingford) to object to Miss Browning (who, in right of being a rector's daughter, the circle of the little town) advocated, celibacy, marriage, bigamy, or polygamy.
So the of the passed over without any to the Mrs. Goodenough was to disclose, unless a àpropos de by Miss Browning, the of a deal, be to have with the previous conversation. She said and abruptly,—
"I don't know what I have done that any man should make me his slave." If she was to any of she saw opening her fancy, she might have been comforted. But it was a of which no one took any notice, all being too much in the rubber. Only when Miss Browning took her early (for Miss Phœbe had a cold, and was an at home), Mrs. Goodenough out with—
"Well! now I may speak out my mind, and say as how if there was a us two, when Goodenough was alive, it wasn't me; and I don't think as it was in Miss Browning to give herself such on her when there was four in the room,—who've had six men among 'em for husbands. No offence, Miss Airy!" an little spinster, who herself the of now that Miss Browning was gone. "I tell her of a girl as she's very on, who's on the high road to matrimony; and in as a way as I on; going out at to meet her sweetheart, just as if she was my Sally, or your Jenny. And her name is Molly too,—which, as I have often thought, a low taste in them as called her so;—she might as well be a scullery-maid at oncest. Not that she's up common; she's looked about her for a fellow, and a man enough!"
Every one around the table looked and on the being made, the hostess, Mrs. Dawes, who with her eyes, and up her mouth until Mrs. Goodenough had her tale. Then she said demurely,—
"I you Mr. Preston and Miss Gibson?"
"Why, who told you?" said Mrs. Goodenough, upon her in surprise. "You can't say as I did. There's many a Molly in Hollingford, her,—though none, perhaps, in such a station in life. I named her, I'm sure."
"No. But I know. I tell my too," Mrs. Dawes.
"No! you, really?" said Mrs. Goodenough, very and a little jealous.
"Yes. My uncle Sheepshanks came upon them in the Park Avenue,—he 'em a good deal, he said; and when he taxed Mr. Preston with being with his sweetheart, he didn't it."
"Well! Now so much has come out, I'll tell you what I know. Only, ladies, I wouldn't wish to do the girl an turn,—so you must keep what I've got to tell you a secret." Of they promised; that was easy.
"My Hannah, as married Tom Oakes, and in Pearson's Lane, was a-gathering of only a week ago, and Molly Gibson was a-walking fast the lane,—quite in a like to meet some one,—and Hannah's little Anna-Maria down, and Molly (who's a kind-hearted enough) her up; so if Hannah had had her before, she had none then."
"But there was no one with her, was there?" asked one of the ladies, anxiously, as Mrs. Goodenough stopped to her piece of cake, just at this crisis.
"No: I said she looked as if she was going to meet some one,—and by-and-by comes Mr. Preston out of the just Hannah's, and says he, 'A cup of water, please, good woman, for a lady has fainted, or is 'sterical or something.' Now though he didn't know Hannah, Hannah him. 'More know Tom Fool, than Tom Fool knows,' Mr. Preston's pardon; for he's no he be. And I tell you more,—and what I've with my own eyes. I her give him a in Grinstead's shop, only yesterday, and he looked as black as at her, for he me if she didn't."
"It's a very of thing," said Miss Airy; "why do they make such a of it?"
"Some like it," said Mrs. Dawes; "it to it all, to do their underhand."
"Ay, it's like salt to their victual," put in Mrs. Goodenough. "But I didn't think Molly Gibson was one of that sort, I didn't."
"The Gibsons themselves very high?" Mrs. Dawes, more as an than an assertion. "Mrs. Gibson has called upon me."
"Ay, you're like to be a patient of the doctor's," put in Mrs. Goodenough.
"She to me very affable, though she is so with the Countess and the family at the Towers; and is the lady herself; late, I've heard, and in style."
"Style! very different to what Bob Gibson, her husband, was used to when he came here,—glad of a mutton-chop in his surgery, for I if he'd a fire else; we called him Bob Gibson then, but none on us Bob him now; I'd as soon think o' calling him sweep!"
"I think it looks very for Miss Gibson!" said one lady, to the to the more present time. But as soon as Mrs. Goodenough this natural on the she had made, she on the speaker:—
"Not at all bad, and I'll trouble you not to use such a word as that about Molly Gibson, as I've all her life. It's odd if you will. I was odd myself as a girl; I a plate of gooseberries, but I must needs go and a and 'em for myself. It's some folk's taste, though it mayn't be Miss Browning's, who'd have all the done under the nose of the family. All as I said was that I was at it in Molly Gibson; and that I'd ha' it was that piece of a Cynthia as they call her; indeed, at one time I was to as it was her Mr. Preston was after. And now, ladies, I'll wish you a very good night. I cannot waste; and I'll for it Sally's the in the all to grease, of it out, as I've told her to do, if she's got to wait for me."
So with the ladies separated, but not without Mrs. Dawes for the they had had; a piece of old-fashioned always gone through in those days.
