CHAPTER XXVIII.
RIVALRY.
For some days after the ball Cynthia seemed languid, and was verysilent. Molly, who had promised herself fully as much enjoyment intalking over the past gaiety with Cynthia as in the evening itself,was disappointed when she found that all conversation on the subjectwas rather evaded than encouraged. Mrs. Gibson, it is true, was readyto go over the ground as many times as any one liked; but her wordswere always like ready-made clothes, and never fitted individualthoughts. Anybody might have used them, and, with a change of propernames, they might have served to describe any ball. She repeatedlyused the same language in speaking about it, till Molly knew thesentences and their sequence even to irritation.
"Ah! Mr. Osborne, you should have been there! I said to myself many atime how you really should have been there--you and your brother, ofcourse."
"I thought of you very often during the evening!"
"Did you? Now that I call very kind of you. Cynthia, darling! Do youhear what Mr. Osborne Hamley was saying?" as Cynthia came into theroom just then. "He thought of us all on the evening of the ball."
"He did better than merely remember us then," said Cynthia, with hersoft slow smile. "We owe him thanks for those beautiful flowers,mamma."
"Oh!" said Osborne, "you must not thank me exclusively. I believe itwas my thought, but Roger took all the trouble of it."
"I consider the thought as everything," said Mrs. Gibson. "Thought isspiritual, while action is merely material."
This fine sentence took the speaker herself by surprise; and in suchconversation as was then going on, it is not necessary to accuratelydefine the meaning of everything that is said.
"I'm afraid the flowers were too late to be of much use, though,"continued Osborne. "I met Preston the next morning, and of course wetalked about the ball. I was sorry to find he had been beforehandwith us."
"He only sent one nosegay, and that was for Cynthia," said Molly,looking up from her work. "And it did not come till after we hadreceived the flowers from Hamley." Molly caught a sight of Cynthia'sface before she bent down again to her sewing. It was scarlet incolour, and there was a flash of anger in her eyes. Both she and hermother hastened to speak as soon as Molly had finished, but Cynthia'svoice was choked with passion, and Mrs. Gibson had the word.
"Mr. Preston's bouquet was just one of those formal affairs any onecan buy at a nursery-garden, which always strike me as having nosentiment in them. I would far rather have two or three lilies of thevalley gathered for me by a person I like, than the most expensivebouquet that could be bought!"
"Mr. Preston had no business to speak as if he had forestalled you,"said Cynthia. "It came just as we were ready to go, and I put it intothe fire directly."
"Cynthia, my dear love!" said Mrs. Gibson (who had never heard of thefate of the flowers until now), "what an idea of yourself you willgive to Mr. Osborne Hamley; but, to be sure, I can quite understandit. You inherit my feeling--my prejudice--sentimental I grant,against bought flowers."
Cynthia was silent for a moment; then she said, "I used some ofyour flowers, Mr. Hamley, to dress Molly's hair. It was a greattemptation, for the colour so exactly matched her coral ornaments;but I believe she thought it treacherous to disturb the arrangement,so I ought to take all the blame on myself."
"The arrangement was my brother's, as I told you; but I am sure hewould have preferred seeing them in Miss Gibson's hair rather thanin the blazing fire. Mr. Preston comes far the worst off." Osbornewas rather amused at the whole affair, and would have liked to probeCynthia's motives a little farther. He did not hear Molly saying inas soft a voice as if she were talking to herself, "I wore mine justas they were sent," for Mrs. Gibson came in with a total change ofsubject.
"Speaking of lilies of the valley, is it true that they grow wildin Hurst Wood? It is not the season for them to be in flower yet;but when it is, I think we must take a walk there--with our luncheonin a basket--a little picnic in fact. You'll join us, won't you?"turning to Osborne. "I think it's a charming plan! You could ride toHollingford and put up your horse here, and we could have a long dayin the woods and all come home to dinner--dinner with a basket oflilies in the middle of the table!"
"I should like it very much," said Osborne; "but I may not be athome. Roger is more likely to be here, I believe, at that time--amonth hence." He was thinking of the visit to London to sellhis poems, and the run down to Winchester which he anticipatedafterwards--the end of May had been the period fixed for thispleasure for some time, not merely in his own mind, but in writing tohis wife.
"Oh, but you must be with us! We must wait for Mr. Osborne Hamley,must not we, Cynthia?"
"I'm afraid the lilies won't wait," replied Cynthia.
"Well, then, we must put it off till dog-rose and honey-suckle time.You will be at home then, won't you? or does the London seasonpresent too many attractions?"
"I don't exactly know when dog-roses are in flower!"
"Not know, and you a poet? Don't you remember the lines--
It was the time of roses, We plucked them as we passed?"
"Yes; but that doesn't specify the time of year that is the timeof roses; and I believe my movements are guided more by the lunarcalendar than the floral. You had better take my brother for yourcompanion he is practical in his love of flowers, I am onlytheoretical."
"Does that fine word 'theoretical' imply that you are ignorant?"asked Cynthia.
"Of course we shall be happy to see your brother; but why can't wehave you too? I confess to a little timidity in the presence of oneso deep and learned as your brother is from all accounts. Give me alittle charming ignorance, if we must call it by that hard word."
Osborne bowed. It was very pleasant to him to be petted andflattered, even though he knew all the time that it was onlyflattery. It was an agreeable contrast to the home that was so dismalto him, to come to this house, where the society of two agreeablegirls, and the soothing syrup of their mother's speeches, awaitedhim whenever he liked to come. To say nothing of the difference thatstruck upon his senses, poetical though he might esteem himself, of asitting-room full of flowers, and tokens of women's presence, whereall the chairs were easy, and all the tables well covered with prettythings, to the great drawing-room at home, where the draperies werethreadbare, and the seats uncomfortable, and no sign of femininepresence ever now lent a grace to the stiff arrangement of thefurniture. Then the meals, light and well-cooked, suited his tasteand delicate appetite so much better than the rich and heavy viandsprepared by the servants at the Hall. Osborne was becoming a littleafraid of falling into the habit of paying too frequent visits tothe Gibsons (and that, not because he feared the consequences ofhis intercourse with the two young ladies; for he never thought ofthem excepting as friends;--the fact of his marriage was constantlypresent to his mind, and Aimee too securely enthroned in his heart,for him to remember that he might be looked upon by others in thelight of a possible husband); but the reflection forced itselfupon him occasionally, whether he was not trespassing too often onhospitality which he had at present no means of returning.
But Mrs. Gibson, in her ignorance of the true state of affairs, wassecretly exultant in the attraction which made him come so oftenand lounge away the hours in her house and garden. She had no doubtthat it was Cynthia who drew him thither; and if the latter had beena little more amenable to reason, her mother would have made morefrequent allusions than she did to the crisis which she thought wasapproaching. But she was restrained by the intuitive conviction thatif her daughter became conscious of what was impending, and was madeaware of Mrs. Gibson's cautious and quiet efforts to forward thecatastrophe, the wilful girl would oppose herself to it with allher skill and power. As it was, Mrs. Gibson trusted that Cynthia'saffections would become engaged before she knew where she was, andthat in that case she would not attempt to frustrate her mother'sdelicate scheming, even though she did perceive it. But Cynthia hadcome across too many varieties of flirtation, admiration, and evenpassion
ate love, to be for a moment at fault as to the quiet friendlynature of Osborne's attentions. She received him always as a sistermight a brother. It was different when Roger returned from hiselection as Fellow of Trinity. The trembling diffidence, the hardlysuppressed ardour of his manner, made Cynthia understand before longwith what kind of love she had now to deal. She did not put it intoso many words--no, not even in her secret heart--but she recognizedthe difference between Roger's relation to her and Osborne's longbefore Mrs. Gibson found it out. Molly was, however, the first todiscover the nature of Roger's attention. The first time they sawhim after the ball, it came out to her observant eyes. Cynthia hadnot been looking well since that evening; she went slowly about thehouse, pale and heavy-eyed; and, fond as she usually was of exerciseand the free fresh air, there was hardly any persuading her now to goout for a walk. Molly watched this fading with tender anxiety, butto all her questions as to whether she had felt over-fatigued withher dancing, whether anything had occurred to annoy her, and allsuch inquiries, she replied in languid negatives. Once Molly touchedon Mr. Preston's name, and found that this was a subject on whichCynthia was raw; now, Cynthia's face lighted up with spirit, and herwhole body showed her ill-repressed agitation, but she only said afew sharp words, expressive of anything but kindly feeling towardsthe gentleman, and then bade Molly never name his name to her again.Still, the latter could not imagine that he was more than intenselydistasteful to her friend, as well as to herself; he could not bethe cause of Cynthia's present indisposition. But this indispositionlasted so many days without change or modification, that even Mrs.Gibson noticed it, and Molly became positively uneasy. Mrs. Gibsonconsidered Cynthia's quietness and languor as the natural consequenceof "dancing with everybody who asked her" at the ball. Partners whosenames were in the "Red Book" would not have produced half the amountof fatigue, according to Mrs. Gibson's judgment apparently, and ifCynthia had been quite well, very probably she would have hit theblot in her mother's speech with one of her touches of sarcasm.Then, again, when Cynthia did not rally, Mrs. Gibson grew impatient,and accused her of being fanciful and lazy; at length, and partlyat Molly's instance, there came an appeal to Mr. Gibson, and aprofessional examination of the supposed invalid, which Cynthia hatedmore than anything, especially when the verdict was, that there wasnothing very much the matter, only a general lowness of tone, anddepression of health and spirits, which would soon be remedied bytonics, and meanwhile, she was not to be roused to exertion.
"If there is one thing I dislike," said Cynthia to Mr. Gibson, afterhe had pronounced tonics to be the cure for her present state, "it isthe way doctors have of giving tablespoonfuls of nauseous mixtures asa certain remedy for sorrows and cares." She laughed up in his faceas she spoke; she had always a pretty word and smile for him, even inthe midst of her loss of spirits.
"Come! you acknowledge you have 'sorrows' by that speech: we'll makea bargain: if you'll tell me your sorrows and cares, I'll try andfind some other remedy for them than giving you what you are pleasedto term my nauseous mixtures."
"No," said Cynthia, colouring; "I never said I had sorrows and cares;I spoke generally. What should I have a sorrow about?--you and Mollyare only too kind to me," her eyes filling with tears.
"Well, well, we'll not talk of such gloomy things, and you shall havesome sweet emulsion to disguise the taste of the bitters I shall beobliged to fall back upon."
"Please, don't. If you but knew how I dislike emulsions anddisguises! I do want bitters--and if I sometimes--if I'm obligedto--if I'm not truthful myself, I do like truth in others--at least,sometimes." She ended her sentence with another smile, but it wasrather faint and watery.
Now the first person out of the house to notice Cynthia's change oflook and manner was Roger Hamley--and yet he did not see her until,under the influence of the nauseous mixture, she was beginning torecover. But his eyes were scarcely off her during the first fiveminutes he was in the room. All the time he was trying to talkto Mrs. Gibson in reply to her civil platitudes, he was studyingCynthia; and at the first convenient pause he came and stood beforeMolly, so as to interpose his person between her and the rest of theroom; for some visitors had come in subsequent to his entrance.
"Molly, how ill your sister is looking! What is it? Has she hadadvice? You must forgive me, but so often those who live together inthe same house don't observe the first approaches of illness."
Now Molly's love for Cynthia was fast and unwavering, but if anythingtried it, it was the habit Roger had fallen into of always callingCynthia Molly's sister in speaking to the latter. From any one elseit would have been a matter of indifference to her, and hardly to benoticed; it vexed both ear and heart when Roger used the expressionand there was a curtness of manner as well as of words in her reply.
"Oh! she was over-tired by the ball. Papa has seen her, and says shewill be all right very soon."
"I wonder if she wants change of air?" said Roger, meditatively. "Iwish--I do wish we could have her at the Hall; you and your mothertoo, of course. But I don't see how it would be possible--or else howcharming it would be!"
Molly felt as if a visit to the Hall under such circumstances wouldbe altogether so different an affair to all her former ones, that shecould hardly tell if she should like it or not.
Roger went on,--
"You got our flowers in time, did you not? Ah! you don't know howoften I thought of you that evening! And you enjoyed it too, didn'tyou?--you had plenty of agreeable partners, and all that makes afirst ball delightful? I heard that your sister danced every dance."
"It was very pleasant," said Molly, quietly. "But, after all, I'm notsure if I want to go to another just yet; there seems to be so muchtrouble connected with a ball."
"Ah! you are thinking of your sister, and her not being well?"
"No, I was not," said Molly, rather bluntly. "I was thinking of thedress, and the dressing, and the weariness the next day."
He might think her unfeeling if he liked; she felt as if she had onlytoo much feeling just then, for it was bringing on her a strangecontraction of heart. But he was too inherently good himself to putany harsh construction on her speech. Just before he went away, whilehe was ostensibly holding her hand and wishing her good-by, he saidto her in a voice too low to be generally heard,--
"Is there anything I could do for your sister? We have plenty ofbooks, as you know, if she cares for reading." Then, receiving noaffirmative look or word from Molly in reply to this suggestion,he went on,--"Or flowers? she likes flowers. Oh! and our forcedstrawberries are just ready--I will bring some over to-morrow."
"I am sure she will like them," said Molly.
For some reason or other, unknown to the Gibsons, a longer intervalthan usual occurred between Osborne's visits, while Roger came almostevery day, always with some fresh offering by which he openly soughtto relieve Cynthia's indisposition as far as it lay in his power.Her manner to him was so gentle and gracious that Mrs. Gibson becamealarmed, lest, in spite of his "uncouthness" (as she was pleasedto term it), he might come to be preferred to Osborne, who was sostrangely neglecting his own interests, in Mrs. Gibson's opinion. Inher quiet way, she contrived to pass many slights upon Roger; but thedarts rebounded from his generous nature that could not have imaginedher motives, and fastened themselves on Molly. She had often beencalled naughty and passionate when she was a child; and she thoughtnow that she began to understand that she really had a violenttemper. What seemed neither to hurt Roger nor annoy Cynthia madeMolly's blood boil; and now she had once discovered Mrs. Gibson'swish to make Roger's visits shorter and less frequent, she wasalways on the watch for indications of this desire. She read herstepmother's heart when the latter made allusions to the Squire'sloneliness, now that Osborne was absent from the Hall, and that Rogerwas so often away amongst his friends during the day,--
"Mr. Gibson and I should be so delighted if you could have stopped todinner; but, of course, we cannot be so selfish as to ask you to staywhen we remember how your father would be left
alone. We were sayingyesterday we wondered how he bore his solitude, poor old gentleman!"
Or, as soon as Roger came with his bunch of early roses, it wasdesirable for Cynthia to go and rest in her own room, while Mollyhad to accompany Mrs. Gibson on some improvised errand or call.Still Roger, whose object was to give pleasure to Cynthia, and whohad, from his boyhood, been always certain of Mr. Gibson's friendlyregard, was slow to perceive that he was not wanted. If he did notsee Cynthia, that was his loss; at any rate, he heard how she was,and left her some little thing which he believed she would like, andwas willing to risk the chance of his own gratification by callingfour or five times in the hope of seeing her once. At last there camea day when Mrs. Gibson went beyond her usual negative snubbiness,and when, in some unwonted fit of crossness, for she was a veryplacid-tempered person in general, she was guilty of positiverudeness.
Cynthia was very much better. Tonics had ministered to a minddiseased, though she hated to acknowledge it; her pretty bloom andmuch of her light-heartedness had come back, and there was no causeremaining for anxiety. Mrs. Gibson was sitting at her embroideryin the drawing-room, and the two girls were at the window, Cynthialaughing at Molly's earnest endeavours to imitate the French accentin which the former had been reading a page of Voltaire. Forthe duty, or the farce, of settling to "improving reading" inthe mornings was still kept up, although Lord Hollingford, theunconscious suggestor of the idea, had gone back to town withoutmaking any of the efforts to see Molly again that Mrs. Gibson hadanticipated on the night of the ball. That Alnaschar vision hadfallen to the ground. It was as yet early morning; a delicious,fresh, lovely June day, the air redolent with the scents offlower-growth and bloom; and half the time the girls had beenostensibly employed in the French reading they had been leaning outof the open window trying to reach a cluster of climbing roses. Theyhad secured them at last, and the buds lay on Cynthia's lap, but manyof the petals had fallen off; so, though the perfume lingered aboutthe window-seat, the full beauty of the flowers had passed away. Mrs.Gibson had once or twice reproved them for the merry noise they weremaking, which hindered her in the business of counting the stitchesin her pattern; and she had set herself a certain quantity to dothat morning before going out, and was of that nature which attachesinfinite importance to fulfilling small resolutions, made aboutindifferent trifles without any reason whatever.
"Mr. Roger Hamley," was announced. "So tiresome!" said Mrs. Gibson,almost in his hearing, as she pushed away her embroidery frame. Sheput out her cold, motionless hand to him, with a half-murmured wordof welcome, still eyeing her lost embroidery. He took no apparentnotice, and passed on to the window.
"How delicious!" said he. "No need for any more Hamley roses nowyours are out."
"I agree with you," said Mrs. Gibson, replying to him before eitherCynthia or Molly could speak, though he addressed his words to them."You have been very kind in bringing us flowers so long; but now ourown are out we need not trouble you any more."
He looked at her with a little surprise clouding his honest face; itwas perhaps more at the tone than the words. Mrs. Gibson, however,had been bold enough to strike the first blow, and she determinedto go on as opportunity offered. Molly would perhaps have been morepained if she had not seen Cynthia's colour rise. She waited for herto speak, if need were; for she knew that Roger's defence, if defencewere required, might be safely entrusted to Cynthia's ready wit.
He put out his hand for the shattered cluster of roses that lay inCynthia's lap.
"At any rate," said he, "my trouble--if Mrs. Gibson considers it hasbeen a trouble to me--will be over-paid, if I may have this."
"Old lamps for new," said Cynthia, smiling as she gave it to him. "Iwish one could always buy nosegays such as you have brought us, ascheaply."
"You forget the waste of time that, I think, we must reckon as partof the payment," said her mother. "Really, Mr. Hamley, we must learnto shut our doors on you if you come so often, and at such earlyhours! I settle myself to my own employment regularly after breakfasttill lunch-time; and it is my wish to keep Cynthia and Molly to acourse of improving reading and study--so desirable for young peopleof their age, if they are ever to become intelligent, companionablewomen; but with early visitors it is quite impossible to observe anyregularity of habits."
All this was said in that sweet, false tone which of late had gonethrough Molly like the scraping of a slate-pencil on a slate. Roger'sface changed. His ruddy colour grew paler for a moment, and he lookedgrave and not pleased. In another moment the wonted frankness ofexpression returned. Why should not he, he asked himself, believeher? It was early to call; it did interrupt regular occupation. So hespoke, and said,--
"I believe I have been very thoughtless--I'll not come so earlyagain; but I had some excuse to-day: my brother told me you had madea plan for going to see Hurst Wood when the roses were out, and theyare earlier than usual this year--I've been round to see. He spoke ofa long day there, going before lunch--"
"The plan was made with Mr. Osborne Hamley. I could not think ofgoing without him!" said Mrs. Gibson, coldly.
"I had a letter from him this morning, in which he named your wish,and he says he fears he cannot be at home till they are out offlower. I daresay they are not much to see in reality, but the day isso lovely I thought that the plan of going to Hurst Wood would be acharming excuse for being out of doors."
"Thank you. How kind you are! and so good, too, in sacrificing yournatural desire to be with your father as much as possible."
"I'm glad to say my father is so much better than he was in thewinter that he spends much of his time out of doors in his fields. Hehas been accustomed to go about alone, and I--we think that as greata return to his former habits as he can be induced to make is thebest for him."
"And when do you return to Cambridge?"
There was some hesitation in Roger's manner as he replied,--
"It is uncertain. You probably know that I am a Fellow of Trinitynow. I hardly yet know what my future plans may be; I am thinking ofgoing up to London soon."
"Ah! London is the true place for a young man," said Mrs. Gibson,with decision, as if she had reflected a good deal on the question."If it were not that we really are so busy this morning, I shouldhave been tempted to make an exception to our general rule; one moreexception, for your early visits have made us make too many already.Perhaps, however, we may see you again before you go?"
"Certainly I shall come," replied he, rising to take his leave, andstill holding the demolished roses in his hand. Then, addressinghimself more especially to Cynthia, he added, "My stay in London willnot exceed a fortnight or so--is there anything I can do for you--oryou?" turning a little to Molly.
"No, thank you very much," said Cynthia, very sweetly, and then,acting on a sudden impulse, she leant out of the window, and gatheredhim some half-opened roses. "You deserve these; do throw that poorshabby bunch away."
His eyes brightened, his cheeks glowed. He took the offered buds, butdid not throw away the other bunch.
"At any rate, I may come after lunch is over, and the afternoons andevenings will be the most delicious time of day a month hence." Hesaid this to both Molly and Cynthia, but in his heart he addressed itto the latter.
Mrs. Gibson affected not to hear what he was saying, but held out herlimp hand once more to him.
"I suppose we shall see you when you return; and pray tell yourbrother how we are longing to have a visit from him again."
When he had left the room, Molly's heart was quite full. Shehad watched his face, and read something of his feelings: hisdisappointment at their non-acquiescence in his plan of a day'spleasure in Hurst Wood, the delayed conviction that his presencewas not welcome to the wife of his old friend, which had come soslowly upon him--perhaps, after all, these things touched Molly morekeenly than they did him. His bright look when Cynthia gave him therose-buds indicated a gush of sudden delight more vivid than the painhe had shown by his previous increase of gravity.
"I can't
think why he will come at such untimely hours," said Mrs.Gibson, as soon as she heard him fairly out of the house. "It'sdifferent from Osborne; we are so much more intimate with him: hecame and made friends with us all the time this stupid brother ofhis was muddling his brains with mathematics at Cambridge. Fellow ofTrinity, indeed! I wish he would learn to stay there, and not comeintruding here, and assuming that because I asked Osborne to join ina picnic it was all the same to me which brother came."
"In short, mamma, one man may steal a horse, but another must notlook over the hedge," said Cynthia, pouting a little.
"And the two brothers have always been treated so exactly alike bytheir friends, and there has been such a strong friendship betweenthem, that it is no wonder Roger thinks he may be welcome whereOsborne is allowed to come at all hours," continued Molly, in highdudgeon. "Roger's 'muddled brains,' indeed! Roger, 'stupid!'"
"Oh, very well, my dears! When I was young it wouldn't have beenthought becoming for girls of your age to fly out because a littlerestraint was exercised as to the hours at which they should receivethe young men's calls. And they would have supposed that there mightbe good reasons why their parents disapproved of the visits ofcertain gentlemen, even while they were proud and pleased to see somemembers of the same family."
"But that was what I said, mamma," said Cynthia, looking at hermother with an expression of innocent bewilderment on her face. "Oneman may--"
"Be quiet, child! All proverbs are vulgar, and I do believe thatis the vulgarest of all. You are really catching Roger Hamley'scoarseness, Cynthia!"
"Mamma," said Cynthia, roused to anger, "I don't mind your abusingme, but Mr. Roger Hamley has been very kind to me while I've notbeen well: I can't bear to hear him disparaged. If he's coarse, I'veno objection to be coarse as well, for it seems to me it must meankindliness and pleasantness, and the bringing of pretty flowers andpresents."
Molly's tears were brimming over at these words; she could havekissed Cynthia for her warm partisanship, but, afraid of betrayingemotion, and "making a scene," as Mrs. Gibson called any signs ofwarm feeling, she laid down her book hastily, and ran upstairs toher room, and locked the door in order to breathe freely. There weretraces of tears upon her face when she returned into the drawing-roomhalf-an-hour afterwards, walking straight and demurely up to herformer place, where Cynthia still sate and gazed idly out of thewindow, pouting and displeased; Mrs. Gibson, meanwhile, counting herstitches aloud with great distinctness and vigour.