CHAPTER LV.
AN ABSENT LOVER RETURNS.
[Illustration (untitled)]
And now it was late June; and to Molly's and her father's extremeurgency in pushing, and Mr. and Mrs. Kirkpatrick's affectionatepersistency in pulling, Cynthia had yielded, and had gone back tofinish her interrupted visit in London, but not before the bruit ofher previous sudden return to nurse Molly had told strongly in herfavour in the fluctuating opinion of the little town. Her affair withMr. Preston was thrust into the shade; while every one was speakingof her warm heart. Under the gleam of Molly's recovery everythingassumed a rosy hue, as indeed became the time when actual roses werefully in bloom.
One morning Mrs. Gibson brought Molly a great basket of flowers, thathad been sent from the Hall. Molly still breakfasted in bed, but shehad just come down, and was now well enough to arrange the flowersfor the drawing-room, and as she did so with these blossoms, she madesome comments on each.
"Ah! these white pinks! They were Mrs. Hamley's favourite flower;and so like her! This little bit of sweet briar, it quite scents theroom. It has pricked my fingers, but never mind. Oh, mamma, lookat this rose! I forget its name, but it is very rare, and grows upin the sheltered corner of the wall, near the mulberry-tree. Rogerbought the tree for his mother with his own money when he was quite aboy; he showed it me, and made me notice it."
"I daresay it was Roger who got it now. You heard papa say he hadseen him yesterday."
"No! Roger! Roger come home!" said Molly, turning first red, thenvery white.
"Yes. Oh, I remember you had gone to bed before papa came in, and hewas called off early to tiresome Mrs. Beale. Yes, Roger turned up atthe Hall the day before yesterday."
But Molly leaned back against her chair, too faint to do more at theflowers for some time. She had been startled by the suddenness of thenews. "Roger come home!"
It happened that Mr. Gibson was unusually busy on this particularday, and he did not come home till late in the afternoon. But Mollykept her place in the drawing-room all the time, not even going totake her customary siesta, so anxious was she to hear everythingabout Roger's return, which as yet appeared to her almost incredible.But it was quite natural in reality; the long monotony of her illnesshad made her lose all count of time. When Roger left England, hisidea was to coast round Africa on the eastern side until he reachedthe Cape; and thence to make what further journey or voyage mightseem to him best in pursuit of his scientific objects. To Cape Townall his letters had been addressed of late; and there, two monthsbefore, he had received the intelligence of Osborne's death, as wellas Cynthia's hasty letter of relinquishment. He did not considerthat he was doing wrong in returning to England immediately, andreporting himself to the gentlemen who had sent him out, with afull explanation of the circumstances relating to Osborne's privatemarriage and sudden death. He offered, and they accepted his offer,to go out again for any time that they might think equivalent to thefive months he was yet engaged to them for. They were most of themgentlemen of property, and saw the full importance of proving themarriage of an eldest son, and installing his child as the naturalheir to a long-descended estate. This much information, but in a morecondensed form, Mr. Gibson gave to Molly, in a very few minutes. Shesat up on her sofa, looking very pretty with the flush on her cheeks,and the brightness in her eyes.
"Well!" said she, when her father stopped speaking.
"Well! what?" asked he, playfully.
"Oh! why, such a number of things. I've been waiting all day to askyou all about everything. How is he looking?"
"If a young man of twenty-four ever does take to growing taller, Ishould say that he was taller. As it is, I suppose it's only that helooks broader, stronger--more muscular."
"Oh! is he changed?" asked Molly, a little disturbed by this account.
"No, not changed; and yet not the same. He's as brown as a berry forone thing; caught a little of the negro tinge, and a beard as fineand sweeping as my bay-mare's tail."
"A beard! But go on, papa. Does he talk as he used to do? I shouldknow his voice amongst ten thousand."
"I didn't catch any Hottentot twang, if that's what you mean. Nor didhe say, 'Caesar and Pompey berry much alike, 'specially Pompey,' whichis the only specimen of negro language I can remember just at thismoment."
"And which I never could see the wit of," said Mrs. Gibson, who hadcome into the room after the conversation had begun; and did notunderstand what it was aiming at. Molly fidgeted; she wanted to go onwith her questions and keep her father to definite and matter-of-factanswers, and she knew that when his wife chimed into a conversation,Mr. Gibson was very apt to find out that he must go about somenecessary piece of business.
"Tell me, how are they all getting on together?" It was an inquirywhich she did not make in general before Mrs. Gibson, for Molly andher father had tacitly agreed to keep silence on what they knew orhad observed, respecting the three who formed the present family atthe Hall.
"Oh!" said Mr. Gibson, "Roger is evidently putting everything torights in his firm, quiet way."
"'Things to rights.' Why, what's wrong?" asked Mrs. Gibson quickly."The Squire and the French daughter-in-law don't get on welltogether, I suppose? I am always so glad Cynthia acted with thepromptitude she did; it would have been very awkward for her to havebeen mixed up with all these complications. Poor Roger! to findhimself supplanted by a child when he comes home!"
"You were not in the room, my dear, when I was telling Molly of thereasons for Roger's return; it was to put his brother's child at onceinto his rightful and legal place. So now, when he finds the workpartly done to his hands, he is happy and gratified in proportion."
"Then he is not much affected by Cynthia's breaking off herengagement?" (Mrs. Gibson could afford to call it an "engagement"now.) "I never did give him credit for very deep feelings."
"On the contrary, he feels it very acutely. He and I had a long talkabout it, yesterday."
Both Molly and Mrs. Gibson would have liked to have heard somethingmore about this conversation but Mr. Gibson did not choose to go onwith the subject. The only point which he disclosed was that Rogerhad insisted on his right to have a personal interview with Cynthia;and, on hearing that she was in London at present, had deferred anyfurther explanation or expostulation by letter, preferring to awaither return.
Molly went on with her questions on other subjects. "And Mrs. OsborneHamley? How is she?"
"Wonderfully brightened up by Roger's presence. I don't think I'veever seen her smile before; but she gives him the sweetest smilesfrom time to time. They are evidently good friends; and she loses herstrange startled look when she speaks to him. I suspect she has beenquite aware of the Squire's wish that she should return to France;and has been hard put to it to decide whether to leave her child ornot. The idea that she would have to make some such decision cameupon her when she was completely shattered by grief and illness, andshe hasn't had any one to consult as to her duty until Roger came,upon whom she has evidently firm reliance. He told me something ofthis himself."
"You seem to have had quite a long conversation with him, papa!"
"Yes. I was going to see old Abraham, when the Squire called to meover the hedge, as I was jogging along. He told me the news; andthere was no resisting his invitation to come back and lunch withthem. Besides, one gets a great deal of meaning out of Roger's words;it didn't take so very long a time to hear this much."
"I should think he would come and call upon us soon," said Mrs.Gibson to Molly, "and then we shall see how much we can manage tohear."
"Do you think he will, papa?" said Molly, more doubtfully. Sheremembered the last time he was in that very room, and the hopes withwhich he left it; and she fancied that she could see traces of thisthought in her father's countenance at his wife's speech.
"I can't tell, my dear. Until he's quite convinced of Cynthia'sintentions, it can't be very pleasant for him to come on mere visitsof ceremony to the house in which he has known her; but he's one whowill alway
s do what he thinks right, whether pleasant or not."
Mrs. Gibson could hardly wait till her husband had finished hissentence before she testified against a part of it.
"'Convinced of Cynthia's intentions!' I should think she had madethem pretty clear! What more does the man want?"
"He's not as yet convinced that the letter wasn't written in a fitof temporary feeling. I've told him that this was true; although Ididn't feel it my place to explain to him the causes of that feeling.He believes that he can induce her to resume the former footing.I don't; and I've told him so; but, of course, he needs the fullconviction that she alone can give him."
"Poor Cynthia! My poor child!" said Mrs. Gibson, plaintively. "Whatshe has exposed herself to by letting herself be over-persuaded bythat man!"
Mr. Gibson's eyes flashed fire. But he kept his lips tight closed;and only said, "'That man,' indeed!" quite below his breath.
Molly, too, had been damped by an expression or two in her father'sspeech. "Mere visits of ceremony!" Was it so, indeed? A "mere visitof ceremony!" Whatever it was, the call was paid before many dayswere over. That he felt all the awkwardness of his position towardsMrs. Gibson--that he was in reality suffering pain all the time--wasbut too evident to Molly; but, of course, Mrs. Gibson saw nothingof this in her gratification at the proper respect paid to her byone whose name was in the newspapers that chronicled his return, andabout whom already Lord Cumnor and the Towers family had been makinginquiry.
Molly was sitting in her pretty white invalid's dress, half reading,half dreaming, for the June air was so clear and ambient, the gardenso full of bloom, the trees so full of leaf, that reading by the openwindow was only a pretence at such a time; besides which, Mrs. Gibsoncontinually interrupted her with remarks about the pattern of herworsted work. It was after lunch--orthodox calling time, when Mariaushered in Mr. Roger Hamley. Molly started up; and then stood shylyand quietly in her place while a bronzed, bearded, grave man cameinto the room, in whom she at first had to seek for the merry boyishface she knew by heart only two years ago. But months in the climatesin which Roger had been travelling age as much as years in moretemperate regions. And constant thought and anxiety while in dailyperil of life deepen the lines of character upon the face. Moreover,the circumstances that had of late affected him personally were notof a nature to make him either buoyant or cheerful. But his voice wasthe same; that was the first point of the old friend Molly caught,when he addressed her in a tone far softer than he used in speakingconventional politenesses to her stepmother.
"I was so sorry to hear how ill you had been! You are looking butdelicate!" letting his eyes rest upon her face with affectionateexamination. Molly felt herself colour all over with theconsciousness of his regard. To do something to put an end to it,she looked up, and showed him her beautiful soft grey eyes, which henever remembered to have noticed before. She smiled at him as sheblushed still deeper, and said,--
"Oh! I am quite strong now to what I was. It would be a shame to beill when everything is in its full summer beauty."
"I have heard how deeply we--I am indebted to you--my father canhardly praise you--"
"Please don't," said Molly, the tears coming into her eyes in spiteof herself. He seemed to understand her at once; he went on as ifspeaking to Mrs. Gibson: "Indeed, my little sister-in-law is neverweary of talking about Monsieur le Docteur, as she calls yourhusband!"
"I have not had the pleasure of making Mrs. Osborne Hamley'sacquaintance yet," said Mrs. Gibson, suddenly aware of a duty whichmight have been expected from her, "and I must beg you to apologizeto her for my remissness. But Molly has been such a care and anxietyto me--for, you know, I look upon her quite as my own child--thatI really have not gone anywhere; excepting to the Towers, perhapsI should say, which is just like another home to me. And then Iunderstood that Mrs. Osborne Hamley was thinking of returning toFrance before long? Still it was very remiss."
The little trap thus set for news of what might be going on in theHamley family was quite successful. Roger answered her thus:--
"I am sure Mrs. Osborne Hamley will be very glad to see any friendsof the family, as soon as she is a little stronger. I hope she willnot go back to France at all. She is an orphan, and I trust we shallinduce her to remain with my father. But at present nothing isarranged." Then, as if glad to have got over his "visit of ceremony,"he got up and took leave. When he was at the door he looked back,having, as he thought, a word more to say; but he quite forgot whatit was, for he surprised Molly's intent gaze, and sudden confusion atdiscovery, and went away as soon as he could.
"Poor Osborne was right!" said he. "She has grown into delicatefragrant beauty, just as he said she would: or is it the characterwhich has formed her face? Now the next time I enter these doors, itwill be to learn my fate!"
Mr. Gibson had told his wife of Roger's desire to have a personalinterview with Cynthia, rather with a view to her repeating what hesaid to her daughter. He did not see any exact necessity for this, itis true; but he thought it might be advisable that she should knowall the truth in which she was concerned, and he told his wife this.But she took the affair into her own management, and, although sheapparently agreed with Mr. Gibson, she never named the affair toCynthia; all that she said to her was--
"Your old admirer, Roger Hamley, has come home in a great hurry,in consequence of poor dear Osborne's unexpected decease. He musthave been rather surprised to find the widow and her little boyestablished at the Hall. He came to call here the other day, andmade himself really rather agreeable, although his manners are notimproved by the society he has kept on his travels. Still I prophesyhe will be considered as a fashionable 'lion,' and perhaps the veryuncouthness which jars against my sense of refinement, may evenbecome admired in a scientific traveller, who has been into moredesert places, and eaten more extraordinary food, than any otherEnglishman of the day. I suppose he has given up all chance ofinheriting the estate, for I hear he talks of returning to Africa,and becoming a regular wanderer. Your name was not mentioned, but Ibelieve he inquired about you from Mr. Gibson."
"There!" said she to herself, as she folded up and directed herletter; "that can't disturb her, or make her uncomfortable. And it'sall the truth too, or very near it. Of course he'll want to see herwhen she comes back; but by that time I do hope Mr. Henderson willhave proposed again, and that that affair will be all settled."
But Cynthia returned to Hollingford one Tuesday morning, and inanswer to her mother's anxious inquiries on the subject, would onlysay that Mr. Henderson had not offered again. "Why should he? She hadrefused him once, and he did not know the reason of her refusal, atleast one of the reasons. She did not know if she should have takenhim if there had been no such person as Roger Hamley in the world.No! Uncle and aunt Kirkpatrick had never heard anything about Roger'soffer,--nor had her cousins. She had always declared her wish tokeep it a secret, and she had not mentioned it to any one, whateverother people might have done." Underneath this light and carelessvein there were other feelings; but Mrs. Gibson was not one toprobe beneath the surface. She had set her heart on Mr. Henderson'smarrying Cynthia very early in their acquaintance; and to know,firstly, that the same wish had entered into his head, and thatRoger's attachment to Cynthia, with its consequences, had beenthe obstacle; and secondly, that Cynthia herself with all theopportunities of propinquity which she had lately had, had failed toprovoke a repetition of the offer,--was, as Mrs. Gibson said, "enoughto provoke a saint." All the rest of the day she alluded to Cynthiaas a disappointing and ungrateful daughter; Molly could not make outwhy, and resented it for Cynthia, until the latter said, bitterly,"Never mind, Molly. Mamma is only vexed because Mr.--because I havenot come back an engaged young lady."
"Yes; and I am sure you might have done,--there's the ingratitude! Iam not so unjust as to want you to do what you can't do!" said Mrs.Gibson, querulously.
"But where's the ingratitude, mamma? I'm very much tired, and perhapsthat makes me stupid; but I cannot see the ingratitude." Cynt
hiaspoke very wearily, leaning her head back on the sofa-cushions, as ifshe did not care to have an answer.
"Why, don't you see we are doing all we can for you; dressing youwell, and sending you to London and when you might relieve us of theexpense of all this, you don't."
"No! Cynthia, I will speak," said Molly, all crimson withindignation, and pushing away Cynthia's restraining hand. "I am surepapa does not feel, and does not mind, any expense he incurs abouthis daughters. And I know quite well that he does not wish us tomarry, unless--" She faltered and stopped.
"Unless what?" said Mrs. Gibson, half-mocking.
"Unless we love some one very dearly indeed," said Molly, in a low,firm tone.
"Well, after this tirade--really rather indelicate, I must say--Ihave done. I will neither help nor hinder any love-affairs of you twoyoung ladies. In my days we were glad of the advice of our elders."And she left the room to put into fulfilment an idea which had juststruck her: to write a confidential letter to Mrs. Kirkpatrick,giving her her version of Cynthia's "unfortunate entanglement," and"delicate sense of honour," and hints of her entire indifferenceto all the masculine portion of the world, Mr. Henderson beingdexterously excluded from the category.
"Oh, dear!" said Molly, throwing herself back in a chair, with a sighof relief, as Mrs. Gibson left the room; "how cross I do get sinceI've been ill! But I couldn't bear her to speak as if papa grudgedyou anything."
"I'm sure he doesn't, Molly. You need not defend him on my account.But I'm sorry mamma still looks upon me as 'an encumbrance,' as theadvertisements in _The Times_ always call us unfortunate children.But I've been an encumbrance to her all my life. I'm getting verymuch into despair about everything, Molly. I shall try my luck inRussia. I've heard of a situation as English governess at Moscow, ina family owning whole provinces of land, and serfs by the hundred. Iput off writing my letter till I came home; I shall be as much outof the way there as if I was married. Oh, dear! travelling all nightisn't good for the spirits. How is Mr. Preston?"
"Oh, he has taken Cumnor Grange, three miles away, and he never comesin to the Hollingford tea-parties now. I saw him once in the street,but it's a question which of us tried the hardest to get out of theother's way."
"You've not said anything about Roger, yet."
"No; I didn't know if you would care to hear. He is very mucholder-looking; quite a strong grown-up man. And papa says he is muchgraver. Ask me any questions, if you want to know, but I have onlyseen him once."
"I was in hopes he would have left the neighbourhood by this time.Mamma said he was going to travel again."
"I can't tell," said Molly. "I suppose you know," she continued, buthesitating a little before she spoke, "that he wishes to see you?"
"No! I never heard. I wish he would have been satisfied with myletter. It was as decided as I could make it. If I say I won't seehim, I wonder if his will or mine will be the strongest?"
"His," said Molly. "But you must see him; you owe it to him. He willnever be satisfied without it."
"Suppose he talks me round into resuming the engagement? I shouldonly break it off again."
"Surely you can't be 'talked round' if your mind is made up. Butperhaps it is not really, Cynthia?" asked she, with a little wistfulanxiety betraying itself in her face.
"It is quite made up. I am going to teach little Russian girls; andam never going to marry nobody."
"You are not serious, Cynthia. And yet it is a very serious thing."
But Cynthia went into one of her wild moods, and no more reason orsensible meaning was to be got out of her at the time.