CHAPTER XXXVIII.
MR. KIRKPATRICK, Q.C.
Cynthia was always the same with Molly: kind, sweet-tempered, readyto help, professing a great deal of love for her, and probablyfeeling as much as she did for any one in the world. But Molly hadreached to this superficial depth of affection and intimacy in thefirst few weeks of Cynthia's residence in her father's house; and ifshe had been of a nature prone to analyse the character of one whomshe loved dearly, she might have perceived that, with all Cynthia'sapparent frankness, there were certain limits beyond which herconfidence did not go; where her reserve began, and her real self wasshrouded in mystery. For instance, her relations with Mr. Prestonwere often very puzzling to Molly. She was sure that there had been amuch greater intimacy between them formerly at Ashcombe, and that theremembrance of this was often very galling and irritating to Cynthia,who was as evidently desirous of forgetting it as he was anxiousto make her remember it. But why this intimacy had ceased, whyCynthia disliked him so extremely now, and many other unexplainedcircumstances connected with these two facts, were Cynthia's secrets;and she effectually baffled all Molly's innocent attempts duringthe first glow of her friendship for Cynthia, to learn the girlishantecedents of her companion's life. Every now and then Molly cameto a dead wall, beyond which she could not pass--at least with thedelicate instruments which were all she chose to use. Perhaps Cynthiamight have told all there was to tell to a more forcible curiosity,which knew how to improve every slip of the tongue and every fit oftemper to its own gratification. But Molly's was the interest ofaffection, not the coarser desire of knowing everything for a littleexcitement; and as soon as she saw that Cynthia did not wish to tellher anything about that period of her life, Molly left off referringto it. But if Cynthia had preserved a sweet tranquillity of mannerand an unvarying kindness for Molly during the winter of which thereis question, at present she was the only person to whom the beauty'sways were unchanged. Mr. Gibson's influence had been good for her aslong as she saw that he liked her; she had tried to keep as high aplace in his good opinion as she could, and had curbed many a littlesarcasm against her mother, and many a twisting of the absolutetruth when he was by. Now there was a constant uneasiness about herwhich made her more cowardly than before; and even her partisan,Molly, could not help being aware of the distinct equivocations sheoccasionally used when anything in Mr. Gibson's words or behaviourpressed her too hard. Her repartees to her mother were less frequentthan they had been, but there was often the unusual phenomenonof pettishness in her behaviour to her. These changes in humourand disposition, here described all at once, were in themselves aseries of delicate alterations of relative conduct spread over manymonths--many winter months of long evenings and bad weather, whichbring out discords of character, as a dash of cold water brings outthe fading colours of an old fresco.
During much of this time Mr. Preston had been at Ashcombe; for LordCumnor had not been able to find an agent whom he liked to replaceMr. Preston and while the inferior situation remained vacant Mr.Preston had undertaken to do the duties of both. Mrs. Goodenough hadhad a serious illness; and the little society at Hollingford did notcare to meet while one of their habitual set was scarcely out ofdanger. So there had been very little visiting; and though MissBrowning said that the absence of the temptations of society was veryagreeable to cultivated minds, after the dissipations of the previousautumn, when there were parties every week to welcome Mr. Preston,yet Miss Phoebe let out in confidence that she and her sister hadfallen into the habit of going to bed at nine o'clock, for they foundcribbage night after night, from five o'clock till ten, rather toomuch of a good thing. To tell the truth, that winter, if peaceful,was monotonous in Hollingford; and the whole circle of gentilitythere was delighted to be stirred up in March by the intelligencethat Mr. Kirkpatrick, the newly-made Q.C., was coming on a visit fora couple of days to his sister-in-law, Mrs. Gibson. Mrs. Goodenough'sroom was the very centre of gossip; gossip had been her daily breadthrough her life, gossip was meat and wine to her now.
"Dear-ah-me!" said the old lady, rousing herself so as to sit uprightin her easy-chair, and propping herself with her hands on the arms;"who would ha' thought she'd such grand relations! Why, Mr. Ashtontold me once that a Queen's counsel was as like to be a judge as akitten is like to be a cat. And to think of her being as good asa sister to a judge! I saw one oncst; and I know I thought as Ishouldn't wish for a better winter-cloak than his old robes wouldmake me, if I could only find out where I could get 'em second-hand.And I know she'd her silk gowns turned and dyed and cleaned, and, foraught I know, turned again, while she lived at Ashcombe. Keeping aschool, too, and so near akin to this Queen's counsel all the time!Well, to be sure, it wasn't much of a school--only ten young ladiesat the best o' times; so perhaps he never heard of it."
"I've been wondering what they'll give him to dinner," said MissBrowning. "It is an unlucky time for visitors; no game to be had,and lamb so late this year, and chicken hardly to be had for love ormoney."
"He'll have to put up with calf's head, that he will," said Mrs.Goodenough, solemnly. "If I'd ha' got my usual health I'd copy outa receipt of my grandmother's for a rolled calf's head, and send itto Mrs. Gibson--the doctor has been very kind to me all through thisillness--I wish my daughter in Combermere would send me some autumnchickens--I'd pass 'em on to the doctor, that I would; but she's beena-killing of 'em all, and a-sending of them to me, and the last shesent she wrote me word was the last."
"I wonder if they'll give a party for him!" suggested Miss Phoebe."I should like to see a Queen's counsel for once in my life. I haveseen javelin-men, but that's the greatest thing in the legal line Iever came across."
"They'll ask Mr. Ashton, of course," said Miss Browning. "The threeblack graces, Law, Physic, and Divinity, as the song calls them.Whenever there's a second course, there's always the clergyman of theparish invited in any family of gentility."
"I wonder if he's married!" said Mrs. Goodenough. Miss Phoebe hadbeen feeling the same wonder, but had not thought it maidenly toexpress it, even to her sister, who was the source of knowledge,having met Mrs. Gibson in the street on her way to Mrs. Goodenough's.
"Yes, he's married, and must have several children, for Mrs. Gibsonsaid that Cynthia Kirkpatrick had paid them a visit in London, tohave lessons with her cousins. And she said that his wife was a mostaccomplished woman, and of good family, though she brought him nofortune."
"It's a very creditable connection, I'm sure; it's only a wonderto me as how we've heard so little talk of it before," said Mrs.Goodenough. "At the first look of the thing, I shouldn't ha' thoughtMrs. Gibson was one to hide away her fine relations under a bushel;indeed, for that matter, we're all of us fond o' turning the bestbreadth o' the gown to the front. I remember, speaking o' breadths,how I've undone my skirts many a time and oft to put a stain or agrease-spot next to poor Mr. Goodenough. He'd a soft kind of heartwhen first we was married, and he said, says he, 'Patty, link thyright arm into my left one, then thou'lt be nearer to my heart;' andso we kept up the habit, when, poor man, he'd a deal more to think onthan romancing on which side his heart lay; so, as I said, I alwaysput my damaged breadths on the right hand, and when we walked arm inarm, as we always did, no one was never the wiser."
"I should not be surprised if he invited Cynthia to pay him anothervisit in London," said Miss Browning. "If he did it when he was poor,he's twenty times more likely to do it now he's a Queen's counsel."
"Ay, work it by the rule o' three, and she stands a good chance. Ionly hope it won't turn her head; going up visiting in London at herage. Why, I was fifty before ever I went!"
"But she has been in France; she's quite a travelled young lady,"said Miss Phoebe.
Mrs. Goodenough shook her head for a whole minute before she gavevent to her opinion.
"It's a risk," said she, "a great risk. I don't like saying so tothe doctor, but I shouldn't like having my daughter, if I was him,so cheek-by-jowl with a girl as was brought up in the country whereRobesp
ierre and Bonyparte was born."
"But Buonaparte was a Corsican," said Miss Browning, who was muchfarther advanced both in knowledge and in liberality of opinions thanMrs. Goodenough. "And there's a great opportunity for cultivation ofthe mind afforded by intercourse with foreign countries. I alwaysadmire Cynthia's grace of manner, never too shy to speak, yet neverputting herself forwards; she's quite a help to a party; and if shehas a few airs and graces, why they're natural at her age! Now as fordear Molly, there's a kind of awkwardness about her--she broke one ofour best china cups last time she was at a party at our house, andspilt the coffee on the new carpet; and then she got so confused thatshe hardly did anything but sit in a corner and hold her tongue allthe rest of the evening."
"She was so sorry for what she'd done, sister," said Miss Phoebe,in a gentle tone of reproach; she was always faithful to Molly.
"Well, and did I say she wasn't? but was there any need for her to bestupid all the evening after?"
"But you were rather sharp,--rather displeased--"
"And I think it my duty to be sharp, ay, and cross too, when I seeyoung folks careless. And when I see my duty clear, I do it; I'm notone to shrink from it, and they ought to be grateful to me. It'snot every one that will take the trouble of reproving them, as Mrs.Goodenough knows. I'm very fond of Molly Gibson, very, for her ownsake and for her mother's too; I'm not sure if I don't think she'sworth half-a-dozen Cynthias, but for all that she shouldn't break mybest china teacup, and then sit doing nothing for her livelihood allthe rest of the evening."
By this time Mrs. Goodenough gave evident signs of being tired;Molly's misdemeanors and Miss Browning's broken teacup were not asexciting subjects of conversation as Mrs. Gibson's newly-discoveredgood luck in having a successful London lawyer for a relation.
Mr. Kirkpatrick had been, like many other men, struggling on in hisprofession, and encumbered with a large family of his own; he wasready to do a good turn for his connections, if it occasioned him noloss of time, and if (which was, perhaps, a primary condition) heremembered their existence. Cynthia's visit to Doughty Street nineor ten years ago had not made much impression upon him after he hadonce suggested its feasibility to his good-natured wife. He was evenrather startled every now and then by the appearance of a prettylittle girl amongst his own children, as they trooped in to dessert,and had to remind himself who she was. But as it was his customto leave the table almost immediately and to retreat into a smallback-room called his study, to immerse himself in papers for the restof the evening, the child had not made much impression upon him; andprobably the next time he remembered her existence was when Mrs.Kirkpatrick wrote to him to beg him to receive Cynthia for a night onher way to school at Boulogne. The same request was repeated on herreturn; but it so happened that he had not seen her either time; andonly dimly remembered some remarks which his wife had made on one ofthese occasions, that it seemed to her rather hazardous to send soyoung a girl so long a journey without making more provision for hersafety than Mrs. Kirkpatrick had done. He knew that his wife wouldfill up all deficiencies in this respect as if Cynthia had been herown daughter; and thought no more about her until he received aninvitation to attend Mrs. Kirkpatrick's wedding with Mr. Gibson, thehighly-esteemed surgeon of Hollingford, &c. &c.--an attention whichirritated instead of pleasing him. "Does the woman think I havenothing to do but run about the country in search of brides andbridegrooms, when this great case of Houghton _v._ Houghton is comingon, and I haven't a moment to spare?" he asked of his wife.
"Perhaps she never heard of it," suggested Mrs. Kirkpatrick.
"Nonsense! the case has been in the papers for days."
"But she mayn't know you are engaged in it."
"She mayn't," said he, meditatively--such ignorance was possible.
But now the great case of Houghton _v._ Houghton was a thing of thepast; the hard struggle was over, the comparative table-land of Q.C.-dom gained, and Mr. Kirkpatrick had leisure for family feeling andrecollection. One day in the Easter vacation he found himself nearHollingford; he had a Sunday to spare, and he wrote to offer himselfas a visitor to the Gibsons from Friday till Monday, expressingstrongly (what he really felt, in a less degree,) his wish to makeMr. Gibson's acquaintance. Mr. Gibson, though often overwhelmed withprofessional business, was always hospitable; and moreover, it wasalways a pleasure to him to get out of the somewhat confined mentalatmosphere which he had breathed over and over again, and have awhiff of fresh air: a glimpse of what was passing in the great worldbeyond his daily limits of thought and action. So he was ready togive a cordial welcome to his unknown relation. Mrs. Gibson wasin a flutter of sentimental delight, which she fancied was familyaffection, but which might not have been quite so effervescent if Mr.Kirkpatrick had remained in his former position of struggling lawyer,with seven children, living in Doughty Street.
When the two gentlemen met they were attracted towards each otherby a similarity of character, with just enough difference in theiropinions to make the experience of each, on which such opinionswere based, valuable to the other. To Mrs. Gibson, although thebond between them counted for very little in their intercourse, Mr.Kirkpatrick paid very polite attention and was, in fact, very gladthat she had done so well for herself as to marry a sensible andagreeable man, who was able to keep her in comfort, and to behaveto her daughter in so liberal a manner. Molly struck him as adelicate-looking girl, who might be very pretty if she had a greaterlook of health and animation: indeed, looking at her critically,there were beautiful points about her face--long soft grey eyes,black curling eyelashes, rarely-showing dimples, perfect teeth;but there was a languor over all, a slow depression of manner,which contrasted unfavourably with the brightly-coloured Cynthia,sparkling, quick, graceful, and witty. As Mr. Kirkpatrick expressedit afterwards to his wife, he was quite in love with that girl;and Cynthia, as ready to captivate strangers as any little girlof three or four, rose to the occasion, forgot all her cares anddespondencies, remembered no longer her regret at having lostsomething of Mr. Gibson's good opinion, and listened eagerly and madesoft replies, intermixed with naive sallies of droll humour, tillMr. Kirkpatrick was quite captivated. He left Hollingford, almostsurprised to have performed a duty, and found it a pleasure. For Mrs.Gibson and Molly he had a general friendly feeling; but he did notcare if he never saw them again. But for Mr. Gibson he had a warmrespect, a strong personal liking, which he should be glad to haveripen into a friendship, if there was time for it in this bustlingworld. And he fully resolved to see more of Cynthia; his wife mustknow her; they must have her up to stay with them in London, and showher something of the world. But, on returning home, Mr. Kirkpatrickfound so much work awaiting him that he had to lock up embryofriendships and kindly plans in some safe closet of his mind,and give himself up, body and soul, to the immediate work of hisprofession. But, in May, he found time to take his wife to theAcademy Exhibition, and some portrait there striking him as beinglike Cynthia, he told his wife more about her and his visit toHollingford than he had ever had leisure to do before; and theresult was that on the next day a letter was sent off to Mrs. Gibson,inviting Cynthia to pay a visit to her cousins in London, andreminding her of many little circumstances that had occurred when shewas with them as a child, so as to carry on the clue of friendshipfrom that time to the present.
On its receipt, this letter was greeted in various ways by the fourpeople who sate round the breakfast-table. Mrs. Gibson read it toherself first. Then, without telling what its contents were, so thather auditors were quite in the dark as to what her remarks applied,she said,--
"I think they might have remembered that I am a generation nearer tothem than she is, but nobody thinks of family affection now-a days;and I liked him so much, and bought a new cookery-book, all to makeit pleasant and agreeable and what he was used to." She said all thisin a plaintive, aggrieved tone of voice; but as no one knew to whatshe was referring, it was difficult to offer her consolation. Herhusband was the first to speak.
"If you want us
to sympathize with you, tell us what is the nature ofyour woe."
"Why, I daresay it's what he means as a very kind attention, only Ithink I ought to have been asked before Cynthia," said she, readingthe letter over again.
"Who's _he_? and what's meant for a 'kind attention'?"
"Mr. Kirkpatrick, to be sure. This letter is from him; and he wantsCynthia to go and pay them a visit, and never says anything about youor me, my dear. And I'm sure we did our best to make it pleasant; andhe should have asked us first, I think."
"As I couldn't possibly have gone, it makes very little difference tome."
"But I could have gone; and, at any rate, he should have paid usthe compliment: it's only a proper mark of respect, you know. Soungrateful, too, when I gave up my dressing-room on purpose for him!"
"And I dressed for dinner every day he was here, if we are each torecapitulate all our sacrifices on his behalf. But, for all that, Ididn't expect to be invited to his house. I shall be only too glad ifhe will come again to mine."
"I've a great mind not to let Cynthia go," said Mrs. Gibsonreflectively.
"I can't go, mamma," said Cynthia, colouring. "My gowns are all soshabby, and my old bonnet must do for the summer."
"Well, but you can buy a new one; and I'm sure it is high time youshould get yourself another silk gown. You must have been saving up agreat deal, for I don't know when you've had any new clothes."
Cynthia began to say something, but stopped short. She went onbuttering her toast, but she held it in her hand without eating it;without looking up either, as, after a minute or two of silence, shespoke again:--
"I cannot go. I should like it very much; but I really cannot go.Please, mamma, write at once, and refuse it."
"Nonsense, child! When a man in Mr. Kirkpatrick's position comesforward to offer a favour, it does not do to decline it withoutgiving a sufficient reason. So kind of him as it is, too!"
"Suppose you offer to go instead of me?" proposed Cynthia.
"No, no! that won't do," said Mr. Gibson, decidedly. "You can'ttransfer invitations in that way. But, really, this excuse about yourclothes does appear to be very trivial, Cynthia, if you have no otherreason to give."
"It is a real, true reason to me," said Cynthia, looking up at himas she spoke. "You must let me judge for myself. It would not doto go there in a state of shabbiness, for even in Doughty Street,I remember, my aunt was very particular about dress; and now thatMargaret and Helen are grown up, and they visit so much,--pray don'tsay anything more about it, for I know it would not do."
"What have you done with all your money, I wonder?" said Mrs. Gibson."You've twenty pounds a year, thanks to Mr. Gibson and me; and I'msure you haven't spent more than ten."
"I hadn't many things when I came back from France," said Cynthia, ina low voice, and evidently troubled by all this questioning. "Praylet it be decided at once; I can't go, and there's an end of it." Shegot up, and left the room rather suddenly.
"I don't understand it at all," said Mrs. Gibson. "Do you, Molly?"
"No. I know she doesn't like spending money on her dress, and is verycareful." Molly said this much, and then was afraid she had mademischief.
"But then she must have got the money somewhere. It always has struckme that if you have not extravagant habits, and do not live up toyour income, you must have a certain sum to lay by at the end of theyear. Have I not often said so, Mr. Gibson?"
"Probably."
"Well, then, apply the same reasoning to Cynthia's case; and then, Iask, what has become of the money?"
"I cannot tell," said Molly, seeing that she was appealed to. "Shemay have given it away to some one who wants it."
Mr. Gibson put down his newspaper.
"It's very clear that she has neither got the dress nor the moneynecessary for this London visit, and that she doesn't want any moreinquiries to be made on the subject. She likes mysteries, in fact,and I detest them. Still, I think it's a desirable thing for her tokeep up the acquaintance, or friendship, or whatever it is to becalled, with her father's family; and I shall gladly give her tenpounds; and if that's not enough, why, either you must help her out,or she must do without some superfluous article of dress or another."
"I'm sure there never was such a kind, dear, generous man as you are,Mr. Gibson," said his wife. "To think of your being a stepfather!and so good to my poor fatherless girl! But, Molly my dear, Ithink you'll acknowledge that you too are very fortunate in yourstepmother. Are not you, love? And what happy _tete-a-tetes_ we shallhave together when Cynthia goes to London! I'm not sure if I don'tget on better with you even than with her, though she is my ownchild; for, as dear papa says so truly, there is a love of mysteryabout her; and if I hate anything, it is the slightest concealmentor reserve. Ten pounds! Why, it will quite set her up, buy her acouple of gowns and a new bonnet, and I don't know what all! Dear Mr.Gibson, how generous you are!"
Something very like "Pshaw!" was growled out from behind thenewspaper.
"May I go and tell her?" said Molly, rising up.
"Yes, do, love. Tell her it would be so ungrateful to refuse; andtell her that your father wishes her to go; and tell her, too, thatit would be quite wrong not to avail herself of an opening which mayby-and-by be extended to the rest of the family. I am sure if theyask me--which certainly they ought to do--I won't say before theyasked Cynthia, because I never think of myself, and am really themost forgiving person in the world, in forgiving slights;--but whenthey do ask me, which they are sure to do, I shall never be contenttill, by putting in a little hint here and a little hint there, I'veinduced them to send you an invitation. A month or two in Londonwould do you so much good, Molly."
Molly had left the room before this speech was ended, and Mr. Gibsonwas occupied with his newspaper; but Mrs. Gibson finished it toherself very much to her own satisfaction for, after all, it wasbetter to have some one of the family going on the visit, though shemight not be the right person, than to refuse it altogether, andnever to have the opportunity of saying anything about it. As Mr.Gibson was so kind to Cynthia, she too would be kind to Molly, anddress her becomingly, and invite young men to the house; do allthe things, in fact, which Molly and her father did not want tohave done, and throw the old stumbling-blocks in the way of theirunrestrained intercourse, which was the one thing they desired tohave, free and open, and without the constant dread of her jealousy.