CHAPTER L.
CYNTHIA AT BAY.
Mrs. Gibson was slow in recovering her strength after the influenza,and before she was well enough to accept Lady Harriet's invitation tothe Towers, Cynthia came home from London. If Molly had thought hermanner of departure was scarcely as affectionate and considerate asit might have been,--if such a thought had crossed Molly's fancyfor an instant, she was repentant for it as soon as ever Cynthiareturned, and the girls met together face to face, with all the oldfamiliar affection, going upstairs to the drawing-room, with theirarms round each other's waists, and sitting there together hand inhand. Cynthia's whole manner was more quiet than it had been, whenthe weight of her unpleasant secret rested on her mind, and made heralternately despondent or flighty.
"After all," said Cynthia, "there's a look of home about these roomswhich is very pleasant. But I wish I could see you looking stronger,mamma! that's the only unpleasant thing. Molly, why didn't you sendfor me?"
"I wanted to do," began Molly--
"But I wouldn't let her," said Mrs. Gibson. "You were much betterin London than here, for you could have done me no good; and yourletters were very agreeable to read; and now Helen is better, andI'm nearly well, and you've come home just at the right time, foreverybody is full of the Charity Ball."
"But we are not going this year, mamma," said Cynthia decidedly."It's on the 25th, isn't it? and I'm sure you'll never be well enoughto take us."
"You really seem determined to make me out worse than I am, child,"said Mrs. Gibson, rather querulously, she being one of those who,when their malady is only trifling, exaggerate it, but when it isreally of some consequence, are unwilling to sacrifice any pleasuresby acknowledging it. It was well for her in this instance that herhusband had wisdom and authority enough to forbid her going tothis ball, on which she had set her heart; but the consequence ofhis prohibition was an increase of domestic plaintiveness and lowspirits, which seemed to tell on Cynthia--the bright gay Cynthiaherself--and it was often hard work for Molly to keep up the spiritsof two other people as well as her own. Ill-health might account forMrs. Gibson's despondency, but why was Cynthia so silent, not to sayso sighing? Molly was puzzled to account for it; and all the moreperplexed because from time to time Cynthia kept calling upon her forpraise for some unknown and mysterious virtue that she had practised;and Molly was young enough to believe that, after any exercise ofvirtue, the spirits rose, cheered up by an approving conscience.Such was not the case with Cynthia, however. She sometimes saidsuch things as these, when she had been particularly inert anddesponding:--
"Ah, Molly, you must let my goodness lie fallow for a while!It has borne such a wonderful crop this year. I have been sopretty-behaved--if you knew all!" Or, "Really, Molly, my virtuemust come down from the clouds! It was strained to the utmost inLondon--and I find it is like a kite--after soaring aloft for sometime, it suddenly comes down, and gets tangled in all sorts ofbriars and brambles; which things are an allegory, unless you canbring yourself to believe in my extraordinary goodness while I wasaway--giving me a sort of right to fall foul of all mamma's briarsand brambles now."
But Molly had had some experience of Cynthia's whim of perpetuallyhinting at a mystery which she did not mean to reveal in the Mr.Preston days, and, although she was occasionally piqued intocuriosity, Cynthia's allusions at something more in the backgroundfell in general on rather deaf ears. One day the mystery burst itsshell, and came out in the shape of an offer made to Cynthia by Mr.Henderson--and refused. Under all the circumstances, Molly could notappreciate the heroic goodness so often alluded to. The revelation ofthe secret at last took place in this way. Mrs. Gibson breakfastedin bed: she had done so ever since she had had the influenza;and, consequently, her own private letters always went up on herbreakfast-tray. One morning she came into the drawing-room earlierthan usual, with an open letter in her hand.
"I've had a letter from aunt Kirkpatrick, Cynthia. She sends me mydividends,--your uncle is so busy. But what does she mean by this,Cynthia?" (holding out the letter to her, with a certain paragraphindicated by her finger). Cynthia put her netting on one side, andlooked at the writing. Suddenly her face turned scarlet, and thenbecame of a deadly white. She looked at Molly, as if to gain couragefrom the strong serene countenance.
"It means--mamma, I may as well tell you at once--Mr. Hendersonoffered to me while I was in London, and I refused him."
"Refused him--and you never told me, but let me hear it by chance!Really, Cynthia, I think you're very unkind. And pray what made yourefuse Mr. Henderson? Such a fine young man,--and such a gentleman!Your uncle told me he had a very good private fortune besides."
"Mamma, do you forget that I have promised to marry Roger Hamley?"said Cynthia quietly.
"No! of course I don't--how can I, with Molly always dinning the word'engagement' into my ears? But really, when one considers all theuncertainties,--and after all it was not a distinct promise,--heseemed almost as if he might have looked forward to something of thissort."
"Of what sort, mamma?" said Cynthia, sharply.
"Why, of a more eligible offer. He must have known you might changeyour mind, and meet with some one you liked better: so little as youhad seen of the world." Cynthia made an impatient movement, as if tostop her mother.
"I never said I liked him better,--how can you talk so, mamma? I'mgoing to marry Roger, and there's an end of it. I will not be spokento about it again." She got up and left the room.
"Going to marry Roger! That's all very fine. But who is to guaranteehis coming back alive? And if he does, what have they to marryupon, I should like to know? I don't wish her to have accepted Mr.Henderson, though I am sure she liked him; and true love ought tohave its course, and not be thwarted; but she need not have quitefinally refused him until--well, until we had seen how matters turnout. Such an invalid as I am too! It has given me quite a palpitationat the heart. I do call it quite unfeeling of Cynthia."
"Certainly,--" began Molly; but then she remembered that herstepmother was far from strong, and unable to bear a protest infavour of the right course without irritation. So she changed herspeech into a suggestion of remedies for palpitation and curbed herimpatience to speak out her indignation at the contemplated falsehoodto Roger. But when they were alone, and Cynthia began upon thesubject, Molly was less merciful. Cynthia said,--
"Well, Molly, and now you know all! I've been longing to tellyou--and yet somehow I could not."
"I suppose it was a repetition of Mr. Coxe," said Molly, gravely."You were agreeable,--and he took it for something more."
"I don't know," sighed Cynthia. "I mean I don't know if I wasagreeable or not. He was very kind--very pleasant--but I did notexpect it all to end as it did. However, it's of no use thinking ofit."
"No!" said Molly, simply; for to her mind the pleasantest and kindestperson in the world put in comparison with Roger was as nothing; hestood by himself. Cynthia's next words,--and they did not come verysoon,--were on quite a different subject, and spoken in rather apettish tone. Nor did she allude again in jesting sadness to her lateefforts at virtue.
In a little while Mrs. Gibson was able to accept the often-repeatedinvitation from the Towers to go and stay there for a day or two.Lady Harriet told her that it would be a kindness to Lady Cumnor tocome and bear her company in the life of seclusion the latter wasstill compelled to lead; and Mrs. Gibson was flattered and gratifiedwith a dim unconscious sense of being really wanted, not merelydeluding herself into a pleasing fiction. Lady Cumnor was in thatstate of convalescence common to many invalids. The spring oflife had begun again to flow, and with the flow returned the olddesires and projects and plans, which had all become mere matters ofindifference during the worst part of her illness. But as yet herbodily strength was not sufficient to be an agent to her energeticmind, and the difficulty of driving the ill-matched pair of body andwill--the one weak and languid, the other strong and stern,--madeher ladyship often very irritable. Mrs. Gibson herself was not quitestrong enough for a
"_souffre-douleur_;" and the visit to the Towerswas not, on the whole, quite so happy a one as she had anticipated.Lady Cuxhaven and Lady Harriet, each aware of their mother's stateof health and temper, but only alluding to it as slightly as wasabsolutely necessary in their conversations with each other, tookcare not to leave "Clare" too long with Lady Cumnor; but severaltimes when one or the other went to relieve guard they found Clare intears, and Lady Cumnor holding forth on some point on which she hadbeen meditating during the silent hours of her illness, and on whichshe seemed to consider herself born to set the world to rights. Mrs.Gibson was always apt to consider these remarks as addressed with apersonal direction at some error of her own, and defended the faultin question with a sense of property in it, whatever it might happento be. The second and the last day of her stay at the Towers, LadyHarriet came in, and found her mother haranguing in an excited toneof voice, and Clare looking submissive and miserable and oppressed.
"What's the matter, dear mamma? Are not you tiring yourself withtalking?"
"No, not at all! I was only speaking of the folly of people dressingabove their station. I began by telling Clare of the fashions ofmy grandmother's days, when every class had a sort of costume ofits own,--and servants did not ape tradespeople, nor tradespeopleprofessional men, and so on,--and what must the foolish woman do butbegin to justify her own dress, as if I had been accusing her, oreven thinking about her at all. Such nonsense! Really, Clare, yourhusband has spoilt you sadly, if you can't listen to any one withoutthinking they are alluding to you. People may flatter themselvesjust as much by thinking that their faults are always present toother people's minds, as if they believe that the world is alwayscontemplating their individual charms and virtues."
"I was told, Lady Cumnor, that this silk was reduced in price. Ibought it at Waterloo House after the season was over," said Mrs.Gibson, touching the very handsome gown she wore in deprecation ofLady Cumnor's angry voice, and blundering on to the very source ofirritation.
"Again, Clare! How often must I tell you I had no thought of you oryour gowns, or whether they cost much or little; your husband has topay for them, and it is his concern if you spend more on your dressthan you ought to do."
"It was only five guineas for the whole dress," pleaded Mrs. Gibson.
"And very pretty it is," said Lady Harriet, stooping to examine it,and so hoping to soothe the poor aggrieved woman. But Lady Cumnorwent on,--
"No! you ought to have known me better by this time. When Ithink a thing I say it out. I don't beat about the bush. I usestraightforward language. I will tell you where I think you havebeen in fault, Clare, if you like to know." Like it or not, theplain-speaking was coming now. "You have spoilt that girl of yourstill she does not know her own mind. She has behaved abominablyto Mr. Preston and it is all in consequence of the faults in hereducation. You have much to answer for."
"Mamma, mamma!" said Lady Harriet, "Mr. Preston did not wishit spoken about." And at the same moment Mrs. Gibson exclaimed,"Cynthia--Mr. Preston!" in such a tone of surprise, that if LadyCumnor had been in the habit of observing the revelations made byother people's tones and voices, she would have found out that Mrs.Gibson was ignorant of the affair to which she was alluding.
"As for Mr. Preston's wishes, I do not suppose I am bound to regardthem when I feel it my duty to reprove error," said Lady Cumnorloftily to Lady Harriet. "And, Clare, do you mean to say that you arenot aware that your daughter has been engaged to Mr. Preston for sometime--years, I believe,--and has at last chosen to break it off,--andhas used the Gibson girl--I forget her name--as a cat's-paw, and madeboth her and herself the town's talk--the butt for all the gossipof Hollingford? I remember when I was young there was a girl calledJilting Jessy. You'll have to watch over your young lady, or shewill get some such name. I speak to you like a friend, Clare, whenI tell you it's my opinion that girl of yours will get herself intosome more mischief yet before she's safely married. Not that I careone straw for Mr. Preston's feelings. I don't even know if he's gotfeelings or not; but I know what is becoming in a young woman, andjilting is not. And now you may both go away, and send Bradley to me,for I'm tired, and want to have a little sleep."
"Indeed, Lady Cumnor--will you believe me?--I do not think Cynthiawas ever engaged to Mr. Preston. There was an old flirtation. I wasafraid--"
"Ring the bell for Bradley," said Lady Cumnor, wearily: her eyesclosed. Lady Harriet had too much experience of her mother's moodsnot to lead Mrs. Gibson away almost by main force, she protestingall the while that she did not think there was any truth in thestatement, though it was dear Lady Cumnor that said it.
Once in her own room, Lady Harriet said, "Now, Clare, I'll tellyou all about it; and I think you'll have to believe it, for itwas Mr. Preston himself who told me. I heard of a great commotionin Hollingford about Mr. Preston and I met him riding out, andasked him what it was all about; he didn't want to speak about it,evidently. No man does, I suppose, when he's been jilted; and he madeboth papa and me promise not to tell; but papa did--and that's whatmamma has for a foundation you see, a really good one."
"But Cynthia is engaged to another man--she really is. And another--avery good match indeed--has just been offering to her in London. Mr.Preston is always at the root of mischief."
"Nay! I do think in this case it must be that pretty Miss Cynthiaof yours who has drawn on one man to be engaged to her,--not to saytwo,--and another to make her an offer. I can't endure Mr. Preston,but I think it's rather hard to accuse him of having called up therivals, who are, I suppose, the occasion of his being jilted."
"I don't know; I always feel as if he owed me a grudge, and men haveso many ways of being spiteful. You must acknowledge that if he hadnot met you I should not have had dear Lady Cumnor so angry with me."
"She only wanted to warn you about Cynthia. Mamma has always beenvery particular about her own daughters. She has been very severe onthe least approach to flirting, and Mary will be like her!"
"But Cynthia will flirt, and I can't help it. She is not noisy, orgiggling; she is always a lady--that everybody must own. But shehas a way of attracting men, she must have inherited from me, Ithink." And here she smiled faintly, and would not have rejected aconfirmatory compliment, but none came. "However, I will speak toher; I will get to the bottom of the whole affair. Pray tell LadyCumnor that it has so fluttered me the way she spoke, about my dressand all. And it only cost five guineas after all, reduced fromeight!"
"Well, never mind now. You are looking very much flushed; quitefeverish! I left you too long in mamma's hot room. But do you knowshe is so much pleased to have you here?" And so Lady Cumnor reallywas, in spite of the continual lectures which she gave "Clare," andwhich poor Mrs. Gibson turned under as helplessly as the typicalworm. Still it was something to have a countess to scold her; andthat pleasure would endure when the worry was past. And then LadyHarriet petted her more than usual to make up for what she had to gothrough in the convalescent's room; and Lady Cuxhaven talked sense toher, with dashes of science and deep thought intermixed, which wasvery flattering, although generally unintelligible; and Lord Cumnor,good-natured, good-tempered, kind, and liberal, was full of gratitudeto her for her kindness in coming to see Lady Cumnor, and hisgratitude took the tangible shape of a haunch of venison, to saynothing of lesser game. When she looked back upon her visit, as shedrove home in the solitary grandeur of the Towers' carriage, therehad been but one great enduring rub--Lady Cumnor's crossness--and shechose to consider Cynthia as the cause of that, instead of seeing thetruth, which had been so often set before her by the members of herladyship's family, that it took its origin in her state of health.Mrs. Gibson did not exactly mean to visit this one discomfort uponCynthia, nor did she quite mean to upbraid her daughter for conductas yet unexplained, and which might have some justification but,finding her quietly sitting in the drawing-room, she sate downdespondingly in her own little easy chair, and in reply to Cynthia'squick pleasant greeting of--
"Well, mamma, how are you? We didn
't expect you so early! Let me takeoff your bonnet and shawl!" she replied dolefully,--
"It has not been such a happy visit that I should wish to prolongit." Her eyes were fixed on the carpet, and her face was asirresponsive to the welcome offered as she could make it.
"What has been the matter?" asked Cynthia, in all good faith.
"You! Cynthia--you! I little thought when you were born how I shouldhave to bear to hear you spoken about."
Cynthia threw back her head, and angry light came into her eyes.
"What business have they with me? How came they to talk about me inany way?"
"Everybody is talking about you; it is no wonder they are. LordCumnor is sure to hear about everything always. You should take morecare about what you do, Cynthia, if you don't like being talkedabout."
"It rather depends upon what people say," said Cynthia, affecting alightness which she did not feel; for she had a prevision of what wascoming.
"Well! I don't like it, at any rate. It is not pleasant to me to hearfirst of my daughter's misdoings from Lady Cumnor, and then to belectured about her, and her flirting, and her jilting, as if I hadhad anything to do with it. I can assure you it has quite spoilt myvisit. No! don't touch my shawl. When I go to my room I can take itmyself."
Cynthia was brought to bay, and sate down; remaining with her mother,who kept sighing ostentatiously from time to time.
"Would you mind telling me what they said? If there are accusationsabroad against me, it is as well I should know what they are. Here'sMolly" (as the girl entered the room, fresh from a morning's walk)."Molly, mamma has come back from the Towers, and my lord and mylady have been doing me the honour to talk over my crimes andmisdemeanors, and I am asking mamma what they have said. I don't setup for more virtue than other people, but I can't make out what anearl and a countess have to do with poor little me."
"It was not for your sake!" said Mrs. Gibson. "It was for mine. Theyfelt for me, for it is not pleasant to have one's child's name ineverybody's mouth."
"As I said before, that depends upon how it is in everybody's mouth.If I were going to marry Lord Hollingford, I make no doubt every onewould be talking about me, and neither you nor I should mind it inthe least."
"But this is no marriage with Lord Hollingford, so it is nonsense totalk as if it was. They say you've gone and engaged yourself to Mr.Preston, and now refuse to marry him; and they call that jilting."
"Do you wish me to marry him, mamma?" asked Cynthia, her face ina flame, her eyes cast down. Molly stood by, very hot, not fullyunderstanding it; and only kept where she was by the hope of comingin as sweetener or peacemaker, or helper of some kind.
"No," said Mrs. Gibson, evidently discomfited by the question. "Ofcourse I don't; you have gone and entangled yourself with RogerHamley, a very worthy young man; but nobody knows where he is, and ifhe's dead or alive; and he has not a penny if he is alive."
"I beg your pardon. I know that he has some fortune from his mother;it may not be much, but he is not penniless; and he is sure toearn fame and great reputation, and with it money will come," saidCynthia.
"You've entangled yourself with him, and you've done something of thesort with Mr. Preston, and got yourself into such an imbroglio" (Mrs.Gibson could not have said "mess" for the world, although the wordwas present to her mind), "that when a really eligible person comesforward--handsome, agreeable, and quite the gentleman--and a goodprivate fortune into the bargain, you have to refuse him. You'll endas an old maid, Cynthia, and it will break my heart."
"I daresay I shall," said Cynthia, quietly. "I sometimes think I'mthe kind of person of which old maids are made!" She spoke seriously,and a little sadly.
Mrs. Gibson began again. "I don't want to know your secrets as longas they are secrets; but when all the town is talking about you, Ithink I ought to be told."
"But, mamma, I didn't know I was such a subject of conversation andeven now I can't make out how it has come about."
"No more can I. I only know that they say you've been engaged to Mr.Preston, and ought to have married him, and that I can't help it, ifyou did not choose, any more than I could have helped your refusingMr. Henderson and yet I am constantly blamed for your misconduct.I think it's very hard." Mrs. Gibson began to cry. Just then herhusband came in.
"You here, my dear! Welcome back," said he, coming up to hercourteously, and kissing her cheek. "Why, what's the matter? Tears?"and he heartily wished himself away again.
"Yes!" said she, raising herself up, and clutching after sympathy ofany kind, at any price. "I'm come home again, and I'm telling Cynthiahow Lady Cumnor has been so cross to me, and all through her. Did youknow she had gone and engaged herself to Mr. Preston, and then brokenit off? Everybody is talking about it, and they know it up at theTowers."
For one moment his eyes met Molly's, and he comprehended it all. Hemade his lips up into a whistle, but no sound came. Cynthia had quitelost her defiant manner since her mother had spoken to Mr. Gibson.Molly sate down by her.
"Cynthia," said he, very seriously.
"Yes!" she answered, softly.
"Is this true? I had heard something of it before--not much; butthere is scandal enough about to make it desirable that you shouldhave some protector--some friend who knows the whole truth."
No answer. At last she said, "Molly knows it all."
Mrs. Gibson, too, had been awed into silence by her husband's gravemanner, and she did not like to give vent to the jealous thought inher mind that Molly had known the secret of which she was ignorant.Mr. Gibson replied to Cynthia with some sternness:
"Yes! I know that Molly knows it all, and that she has had to bearslander and ill words for your sake, Cynthia. But she refused to tellme more."
"She told you that much, did she?" said Cynthia, aggrieved.
"I could not help it," said Molly.
"She didn't name your name," said Mr. Gibson. "At the time I believeshe thought she had concealed it--but there was no mistaking who itwas."
"Why did she speak about it at all?" said Cynthia, with somebitterness. Her tone--her question stirred up Mr. Gibson's passion.
"It was necessary for her to justify herself to me--I heard mydaughter's reputation attacked for the private meetings she had givento Mr. Preston--I came to her for an explanation. There's no need tobe ungenerous, Cynthia, because you've been a flirt and a jilt, evento the degree of dragging Molly's name down into the same mire."
Cynthia lifted her bowed-down head, and looked at him.
"You say that of me, Mr. Gibson? Not knowing what the circumstancesare, you say that?"
He had spoken too strongly: he knew it. But he could not bringhimself to own it just at that moment. The thought of his sweetinnocent Molly, who had borne so much patiently, prevented anyretractation of his words at the time.
"Yes!" he said, "I do say it. You cannot tell what evil constructionsare put upon actions ever so slightly beyond the bounds of maidenlypropriety. I do say that Molly has had a great deal to bear, inconsequence of this clandestine engagement of yours, Cynthia--theremay be extenuating circumstances, I acknowledge--but you will needto remember them all to excuse your conduct to Roger Hamley, whenhe comes home. I asked you to tell me the full truth, in order thatuntil he comes, and has a legal right to protect you, I may do so."No answer. "It certainly requires explanation," continued he. "Hereare you,--engaged to two men at once to all appearances!" Still noanswer. "To be sure, the gossips of the town haven't yet picked outthe fact of Roger Hamley's being your accepted lover; but scandal hasbeen resting on Molly, and ought to have rested on you, Cynthia--fora concealed engagement to Mr. Preston--necessitating meetings in allsorts of places unknown to your friends."
"Papa," said Molly, "if you knew all you wouldn't speak so toCynthia. I wish she would tell you herself all that she has told me."
"I am ready to hear whatever she has to say," said he. But Cynthiasaid,--
"No! you have prejudged me; you have spoken to me as you had no rightto speak. I
refuse to give you my confidence, or accept your help.People are very cruel to me"--her voice trembled for a moment--"I didnot think you would have been. But I can bear it."
And then, in spite of Molly, who would have detained her by force,she tore herself away, and hastily left the room.
"Oh, papa!" said Molly, crying, and clinging to him, "do let metell you all." And then she suddenly recollected the awkwardness oftelling some of the details of the story before Mrs. Gibson, andstopped short.
"I think, Mr. Gibson, you have been very very unkind to my poorfatherless child," said Mrs. Gibson, emerging from behind herpocket-handkerchief. "I only wish her poor father had been alive,and all this would never have happened."
"Very probably. Still I cannot see of what either she or you have tocomplain. Inasmuch as we could, I and mine have sheltered her! I haveloved her; I do love her almost as if she were my own child--as wellas Molly, I do not pretend to do."
"That's it, Mr. Gibson! you do not treat her like your own child."But in the midst of this wrangle Molly stole out, and went in searchof Cynthia. She thought she bore an olive-branch of healing in thesound of her father's just spoken words: "I do love her almost as ifshe were my own child." But Cynthia was locked into her room, andrefused to open the door.
"Open to me, please," pleaded Molly. "I have something to say toyou--I want to see you--do open!"
"No!" said Cynthia. "Not now. I am busy. Leave me alone. I don't wantto hear what you have got to say. I don't want to see you. By-and-bywe shall meet, and then--" Molly stood quite quietly, wonderingwhat new words of more persuasion she could use. In a minute or twoCynthia called out, "Are you there still, Molly?" and when Mollyanswered "Yes," and hoped for a relenting, the same hard metallicvoice, telling of resolution and repression, spoke out, "Go away. Icannot bear the feeling of your being there--waiting and listening.Go downstairs--out of the house--anywhere away. It is the most youcan do for me now."