CHAPTER XL.
MOLLY GIBSON BREATHES FREELY.
That was the way in which Mrs. Gibson first broached her intentionof accompanying Cynthia up to London for a few days' visit. She hada trick of producing the first sketch of any new plan before anoutsider to the family circle; so that the first emotions of others,if they disapproved of her projects, had to be repressed, until theidea had become familiar to them. To Molly it seemed too charminga proposal ever to come to pass. She had never allowed herself torecognize the restraint she was under in her stepmother's presence;but all at once she found it out when her heart danced at the ideaof three whole days--for that it would be at the least--of perfectfreedom of intercourse with her father; of old times come back again;of meals without perpetual fidgetiness after details of ceremony andcorrectness of attendance.
"We'll have bread-and-cheese for dinner, and eat it on our knees;we'll make up for having had to eat sloppy puddings with a forkinstead of a spoon all this time, by putting our knives in our mouthstill we cut ourselves. Papa shall pour his tea into his saucer ifhe's in a hurry; and if I'm thirsty, I'll take the slop-basin. Andoh, if I could but get, buy, borrow, or steal any kind of an oldhorse; my grey skirt isn't new, but it will do;--that would be toodelightful! After all, I think I can be happy again; for months andmonths it has seemed as if I had got too old ever to feel pleasure,much less happiness again."
So thought Molly. Yet she blushed, as if with guilt, when Cynthia,reading her thoughts, said to her one day,--
"Molly, you're very glad to get rid of us, are not you?"
"Not of you, Cynthia; at least, I don't think I am. Only, if you butknew how I love papa, and how I used to see a great deal more of himthan I ever do now--"
"Ah! I often think what interlopers we must seem, and are in fact--"
"I don't feel you as such. You, at any rate, have been a new delightto me--a sister; and I never knew how charming such a relationshipcould be."
"But mamma?" said Cynthia, half-suspiciously, half-sorrowfully.
"She is papa's wife," said Molly, quietly. "I don't mean to say I'mnot often very sorry to feel I'm no longer first with him; but itwas"--the violent colour flushed into her face till even her eyesburnt, and she suddenly found herself on the point of crying; theweeping ash-tree, the misery, the slow dropping comfort, and thecomforter came all so vividly before her--"it was Roger!"--she wenton looking up at Cynthia, as she overcame her slight hesitation atmentioning his name--"Roger, who told me how I ought to take papa'smarriage, when I was first startled and grieved at the news. Oh,Cynthia, what a great thing it is to be loved by him!"
Cynthia blushed, and looked fluttered and pleased.
"Yes, I suppose it is. At the same time, Molly, I'm afraid he'llexpect me to be always as good as he fancies me now, and I shall haveto walk on tiptoe all the rest of my life."
"But you are good, Cynthia," put in Molly.
"No, I'm not. You're just as much mistaken as he is; and some day Ishall go down in your opinions with a run, just like the hall clockthe other day when the spring broke."
"I think he'll love you just as much," said Molly.
"Could you? Would you be my friend if--if it turned out ever that Ihad done very wrong things? Would you remember how very difficult ithas sometimes been to me to act rightly?" (she took hold of Molly'shand as she spoke). "We won't speak of mamma, for your sake as muchas mine or hers; but you must see she isn't one to help a girl withmuch good advice, or good-- Oh, Molly, you don't know how I wasneglected just at a time when I wanted friends most. Mamma does notknow it; it is not in her to know what I might have been if I hadonly fallen into wise, good hands. But I know it; and what's more,"continued she, suddenly ashamed of her unusual exhibition of feeling,"I try not to care, which I daresay is really the worst of all; but Icould worry myself to death if I once took to serious thinking."
"I wish I could help you, or even understand you," said Molly, aftera moment or two of sad perplexity.
"You can help me," said Cynthia, changing her manner abruptly. "I cantrim bonnets, and make head-dresses; but somehow my hands can't foldup gowns and collars, like your deft little fingers. Please willyou help me to pack? That's a real, tangible piece of kindness, andnot sentimental consolation for sentimental distresses, which are,perhaps, imaginary after all."
In general, it is the people that are left behind stationary, whogive way to low spirits at any parting; the travellers, howeverbitterly they may feel the separation, find something in the changeof scene to soften regret in the very first hour of separation. Butas Molly walked home with her father from seeing Mrs. Gibson andCynthia off to London by the "Umpire" coach, she almost danced alongthe street.
"Now, papa!" said she, "I'm going to have you all to myself for awhole week. You must be very obedient."
"Don't be tyrannical, then. You're walking me out of breath, andwe're cutting Mrs. Goodenough, in our hurry."
So they crossed over the street to speak to Mrs. Goodenough.
"We've just been seeing my wife and her daughter off to London. Mrs.Gibson has gone up for a week!"
"Deary, deary, to London, and only for a week! Why, I can rememberits being a three days' journey! It'll be very lonesome for you, MissMolly, without your young companion!"
"Yes!" said Molly, suddenly feeling as if she ought to have takenthis view of the case. "I shall miss Cynthia very much."
"And you, Mr. Gibson why, it'll be like being a widower over again!You must come and drink tea with me some evening. We must try andcheer you up a bit amongst us. Shall it be Tuesday?"
In spite of the sharp pinch which Molly gave to his arm, Mr. Gibsonaccepted the invitation, much to the gratification of the old lady.
"Papa, how could you go and waste one of our evenings! We have butsix in all, and now but five; and I had so reckoned on our doing allsorts of things together."
"What sort of things?"
"Oh, I don't know: everything that is unrefined and ungenteel," addedshe, slily looking up into her father's face.
His eyes twinkled, but the rest of his face was perfectly grave. "I'mnot going to be corrupted. With toil and labour I've reached a veryfair height of refinement. I won't be pulled down again."
"Yes, you will, papa. We'll have bread-and-cheese for lunch thisvery day. And you shall wear your slippers in the drawing-room everyevening you'll stay quietly at home; and oh, papa, don't you think Icould ride Nora Creina? I've been looking out the old grey skirt, andI think I could make myself tidy."
"Where is the side-saddle to come from?"
"To be sure, the old one won't fit that great Irish mare. But I'm notparticular, papa. I think I could manage somehow."
"Thank you. But I'm not quite going to return into barbarism. It maybe a depraved taste, but I should like to see my daughter properlymounted."
"Think of riding together down the lanes--why, the dog-roses must beall out in flower, and the honeysuckles, and the hay--how I shouldlike to see Merriman's farm again! Papa, do let me have one ride withyou! Please do. I'm sure we can manage it somehow."
And "somehow" it was managed. "Somehow" all Molly's wishes came topass; there was only one little drawback to this week of holiday andhappy intercourse with her father. Everybody would ask them out totea. They were quite like bride and bridegroom; for the fact was,that the late dinners which Mrs. Gibson had introduced into her ownhouse, were a great inconvenience in the calculations of the smalltea-drinkings at Hollingford. How ask people to tea at six, who dinedat that hour? How, when they refused cake and sandwiches at half-pasteight, how induce other people who were really hungry to commit avulgarity before those calm and scornful eyes? So there had been agreat lull of invitations for the Gibsons to Hollingford tea-parties.Mrs. Gibson, whose object was to squeeze herself into "countysociety," had taken this being left out of the smaller festivitieswith great equanimity; but Molly missed the kind homeliness of theparties to which she had gone from time to time as long as she couldremember; and though, as eac
h three-cornered note was brought in,she grumbled a little over the loss of another charming eveningwith her father, she really was glad to go again in the old wayamong old friends. Miss Browning and Miss Phoebe were especiallycompassionate towards her in her loneliness. If they had had theirwill she would have dined there every day; and she had to call uponthem very frequently in order to prevent their being hurt at herdeclining the dinners. Mrs. Gibson wrote twice during her week'sabsence to her husband. That piece of news was quite satisfactoryto the Miss Brownings, who had of late held themselves a great dealaloof from a house where they chose to suppose that their presencewas not wanted. In their winter evenings they had often talked overMr. Gibson's household, and having little besides conjecture to goupon, they found the subject interminable, as they could vary thepossibilities every day. One of their wonders was how Mr. and Mrs.Gibson really got on together; another was whether Mrs. Gibson wasextravagant or not. Now two letters during the week of her absenceshowed what was in those days considered a very proper amount ofconjugal affection. Yet not too much--at elevenpence-halfpennypostage. A third letter would have been extravagant. Sister looked tosister with an approving nod as Molly named the second letter, whicharrived in Hollingford the very day before Mrs. Gibson was to return.They had settled between themselves that two letters would show theright amount of good feeling and proper understanding in the Gibsonfamily: more would have been extravagant; only one would have beena mere matter of duty. There had been rather a question betweenMiss Browning and Miss Phoebe as to which person the second letter(supposing it came) was to be addressed to. It would be very conjugalto write twice to Mr. Gibson and yet it would be very pretty ifMolly came in for her share.
"You've had another letter, you say, my dear?" asked Miss Browning."I daresay Mrs. Gibson has written to you this time?"
"It is a large sheet, and Cynthia has written on one half to me, andall the rest is to papa."
"A very nice arrangement, I'm sure. And what does Cynthia say? Is sheenjoying herself?"
"Oh, yes, I think so. They've had a dinner-party; and one night,when mamma was at Lady Cumnor's, Cynthia went to the play with hercousins."
"Upon my word! and all in one week? I do call that dissipation. Why,Thursday would be taken up with the journey, and Friday with resting,and Sunday is Sunday all the world over; and they must have writtenon Tuesday. Well! I hope Cynthia won't find Hollingford dull, that'sall, when she comes back."
"I don't think it's likely," said Miss Phoebe, with a little simperand a knowing look, which sate oddly on her kindly innocent face."You see a great deal of Mr. Preston, don't you, Molly?"
"Mr. Preston!" said Molly, flushing up with surprise. "No! not much.He's been at Ashcombe all winter, you know! He has but just come backto settle here. What should make you think so?"
"Oh! a little bird told us," said Miss Browning. Molly knew thatlittle bird from her childhood, and had always hated it, and longedto wring its neck. Why could not people speak out and say that theydid not mean to give up the name of their informant? But it was avery favourite form of fiction with the Miss Brownings, and to MissPhoebe it was the very acme of wit.
"The little bird was flying about one day in Heath Lane, and it sawMr. Preston and a young lady--we won't say who--walking together ina very friendly manner, that is to say, he was on horseback; but thepath is raised above the road, just where there is the little woodenbridge over the brook--"
"Perhaps Molly is in the secret, and we ought not to ask her aboutit," said Miss Phoebe, seeing Molly's extreme discomfiture andannoyance.
"It can be no great secret," said Miss Browning, dropping thelittle-bird formula, and assuming an air of dignified reproval atMiss Phoebe's interruption, "for Miss Hornblower says Mr. Prestonowns to being engaged--"
"At any rate it isn't to Cynthia, that I know positively," said Mollywith some vehemence. "And pray put a stop to any such reports; youdon't know what mischief they may do. I do so hate that kind ofchatter!" It was not very respectful of Molly to speak in this wayto be sure, but she thought only of Roger; and the distress any suchreports might cause, should he ever hear of them (in the centre ofAfrica!) made her colour up scarlet with vexation.
"Heighty-teighty! Miss Molly! don't you remember that I am old enoughto be your mother, and that it is not pretty behaviour to speak so tous--to me! 'Chatter' to be sure. Really, Molly--"
"I beg your pardon," said Molly, only half-penitent.
"I daresay you did not mean to speak so to sister," said MissPhoebe, trying to make peace.
Molly did not answer all at once. She wanted to explain how muchmischief might be done by such reports.
"But don't you see," she went on, still flushed by vexation, "howbad it is to talk of such things in such a way? Supposing one ofthem cared for some one else, and that might happen, you know; Mr.Preston, for instance, may be engaged to some one else?"
"Molly! I pity the woman! Indeed I do. I have a very poor opinion ofMr. Preston," said Miss Browning, in a warning tone of voice; for anew idea had come into her head.
"Well, but the woman, or young lady, would not like to hear suchreports about Mr. Preston."
"Perhaps not. But for all that, take my word for it, he's a greatflirt, and young ladies had better not have much to do with him."
"I daresay it was all accident their meeting in Heath Lane," saidMiss Phoebe.
"I know nothing about it," said Molly, "and I daresay I have beenimpertinent, only please don't talk about it any more. I have myreasons for asking you." She got up, for by the striking of thechurch clock she had just found out that it was later than she hadthought, and she knew that her father would be at home by this time.She bent down and kissed Miss Browning's grave and passive face.
"How you are growing, Molly!" said Miss Phoebe, anxious to coverover her sister's displeasure. "'As tall and as straight as apoplar-tree!' as the old song says."
"Grow in grace, Molly, as well as in good looks!" said Miss Browning,watching her out of the room. As soon as she was fairly gone, MissBrowning got up and shut the door quite securely, and then sittingdown near her sister, she said, in a low voice, "Phoebe, it wasMolly herself that was with Mr. Preston in Heath Lane that day whenMrs. Goodenough saw them together!"
"Gracious goodness me!" exclaimed Miss Phoebe, receiving it at onceas gospel. "How do you know?"
"By putting two and two together. Didn't you notice how red Mollywent, and then pale, and how she said she knew for a fact that Mr.Preston and Cynthia Kirkpatrick were not engaged?"
"Perhaps not engaged; but Mrs. Goodenough saw them loiteringtogether, all by their own two selves--"
"Mrs. Goodenough only crossed Heath Lane at the Shire Oak, as she wasriding in her phaeton," said Miss Browning sententiously. "We allknow what a coward she is in a carriage, so that most likely she hadonly half her wits about her, and her eyes are none of the best whenshe is standing steady on the ground. Molly and Cynthia have gottheir new plaid shawls just alike, and they trim their bonnets alike,and Molly is grown as tall as Cynthia since Christmas. I was alwaysafraid she'd be short and stumpy, but she's now as tall and slenderas anyone need be. I'll answer for it, Mrs. Goodenough saw Molly, andtook her for Cynthia."
When Miss Browning "answered for it" Miss Phoebe gave up doubting.She sate some time in silence revolving her thoughts. Then she said:
"It wouldn't be such a very bad match after all, sister." She spokevery meekly, awaiting her sister's sanction to her opinion.
"Phoebe, it would be a bad match for Mary Pearson's daughter. IfI had known what I know now we'd never have had him to tea lastSeptember."
"Why, what do you know?" asked Miss Phoebe.
"Miss Hornblower told me many things; some that I don't thinkyou ought to hear, Phoebe. He was engaged to a very pretty MissGregson, at Henwick, where he comes from; and her father madeinquiries, and heard so much that was bad about him that he made hisdaughter break off the match, and she's dead since!"
"How shocking!" said Miss Phoebe
, duly impressed.
"Besides, he plays at billiards, and he bets at races, and somepeople do say he keeps race-horses."
"But isn't it strange that the earl keeps him on as his agent?"
"No! perhaps not. He's very clever about land, and very sharp in alllaw affairs; and my lord isn't bound to take notice--if indeed heknows--of the manner in which Mr. Preston talks when he has taken toomuch wine."
"Taken too much wine! Oh, sister, is he a drunkard? and we have hadhim to tea!"
"I didn't say he was a drunkard, Phoebe," said Miss Browning,pettishly. "A man may take too much wine occasionally, without beinga drunkard. Don't let me hear you using such coarse words, Phoebe!"
Miss Phoebe was silent for a time after this rebuke.
Presently she said, "I do hope it wasn't Molly Gibson."
"You may hope as much as you like, but I'm pretty sure it was.However, we'd better say nothing about it to Mrs. Goodenough; she hasgot Cynthia into her head, and there let her rest. Time enough to setreports afloat about Molly when we know there's some truth in them.Mr. Preston might do for Cynthia, who's been brought up in France,though she has such pretty manners; but it may have made her notparticular. He must not, and he shall not, have Molly, if I go intochurch and forbid the banns myself; but I'm afraid--I'm afraidthere's something between her and him. We must keep on the look-out,Phoebe. I'll be her guardian angel, in spite of herself."