CHAPTER XXI.
THE HALF-SISTERS.
[Illustration (untitled)]
It appeared as if Mrs. Gibson's predictions were likely to beverified; for Osborne Hamley found his way to her drawing-room prettyfrequently. To be sure, sometimes prophets can help on the fulfilmentof their own prophecies; and Mrs. Gibson was not passive.
Molly was altogether puzzled by his manners and ways. He spoke ofoccasional absences from the Hall, without exactly saying where hehad been. But that was not her idea of the conduct of a married man;who, she imagined, ought to have a house and servants, and pay rentand taxes, and live with his wife. Who this mysterious wife might befaded into insignificance before the wonder of where she was. London,Cambridge, Dover, nay, even France, were mentioned by him as placesto which he had been on these different little journeys. These factscame out quite casually, almost as if he was unaware of what he wasbetraying. Sometimes he dropped out such sentences as these:--"Ah,that would be the day I was crossing! It was stormy indeed! Insteadof our being only two hours, we were nearly five." Or, "I met LordHollingford at Dover last week, and he said," &c. "The cold now isnothing to what it was in London on Thursday--the thermometer wasdown at 15 ." Perhaps, in the rapid flow of conversation, thesesmall revelations were noticed by no one but Molly; whose interestand curiosity were always hovering over the secret she had becomepossessed of, in spite of all her self-reproach for allowing herthoughts to dwell on what was still to be kept as a mystery.
It was also evident to her that Osborne was not too happy at home.He had lost the slight touch of cynicism which he had affected whenhe was expected to do wonders at college; and that was one goodresult of his failure. If he did not give himself the trouble ofappreciating other people, and their performances, at any rate hisconversation was not so amply sprinkled with critical pepper. He wasmore absent, not so agreeable, Mrs. Gibson thought, but did not say.He looked ill in health; but that might be the consequence of thereal depression of spirits which Molly occasionally saw peeping outthrough all his pleasant surface-talk. Now and then, when he wastalking directly to her, he referred to "the happy days that aregone," or, "to the time when my mother was alive;" and then his voicesank, and a gloom came over his countenance, and Molly longed toexpress her own deep sympathy. He did not often mention his father;and Molly thought she could read in his manner, when he did, thatsomething of the painful restraint she had noticed when she was lastat the Hall still existed between them. Nearly every particular sheknew of the family interior she had heard from Mrs. Hamley, and shewas uncertain how far her father was acquainted with them; so shedid not like to question him too closely; nor was he a man to be soquestioned as to the domestic affairs of his patients. Sometimes shewondered if it was a dream--that short half-hour in the library atHamley Hall--when she had learnt a fact which seemed so all-importantto Osborne, yet which made so little difference in his way oflife--either in speech or action. During the twelve or fourteen hoursthat she had remained at the Hall afterwards, no further allusionhad been made to his marriage, either by himself or by Roger. It was,indeed, very like a dream. Probably Molly would have been renderedmuch more uncomfortable in the possession of her secret if Osbornehad struck her as particularly attentive in his devotion to Cynthia.She evidently amused and attracted him, but not in any lively orpassionate kind of way. He admired her beauty, and seemed to feelher charm; but he would leave her side, and come to sit near Molly,if anything reminded him of his mother, about which he could talkto her, and to her alone. Yet he came so often to the Gibsons, thatMrs. Gibson might be excused for the fancy she had taken into herhead, that it was for Cynthia's sake. He liked the lounge, thefriendliness, the company of two intelligent girls of beauty andmanners above the average; one of whom stood in a peculiar relationto him, as having been especially beloved by the mother whose memoryhe cherished so fondly. Knowing himself to be out of the categoryof bachelors, he was, perhaps, too indifferent as to other people'signorance, and its possible consequences.
Somehow, Molly did not like to be the first to introduce Roger's nameinto the conversation, so she lost many an opportunity of hearingintelligence about him. Osborne was often so languid or so absentthat he only followed the lead of talk; and as an awkward fellow,who had paid her no particular attention, and as a second son, Rogerwas not pre-eminent in Mrs. Gibson's thoughts; Cynthia had neverseen him, and the freak did not take her often to speak about him.He had not come home since he had obtained his high place in themathematical lists: that Molly knew; and she knew, too, that he wasworking hard for something--she supposed a fellowship--and that wasall. Osborne's tone in speaking of him was always the same: everyword, every inflection of the voice breathed out affection andrespect--nay, even admiration! And this from the _nil admirari_brother, who seldom carried his exertions so far.
"Ah, Roger!" he said one day. Molly caught the name in an instant,though she had not heard what had gone before. "He is a fellow in athousand--in a thousand, indeed! I don't believe there is his matchanywhere for goodness and real solid power combined."
"Molly," said Cynthia, after Mr. Osborne Hamley had gone, "what sortof a man is this Roger Hamley? One can't tell how much to believe ofhis brother's praises; for it is the one subject on which OsborneHamley becomes enthusiastic. I've noticed it once or twice before."
While Molly hesitated on which point of the large round to begin herdescription, Mrs. Gibson struck in,--
"It just shows what a sweet disposition Osborne Hamley is of--thathe should praise his brother as he does. I daresay he is a seniorwrangler, and much good may it do him! I don't deny that; but as forconversation, he's as heavy as heavy can be. A great awkward fellowto boot, who looks as if he did not know two and two made four, forall he is such a mathematical genius. You would hardly believe hewas Osborne Hamley's brother to see him! I should not think he has aprofile at all."
"What do you think of him, Molly?" said the persevering Cynthia.
"I like him," said Molly. "He has been very kind to me. I know heisn't handsome like Osborne."
It was rather difficult to say all this quietly, but Molly managed todo it, quite aware that Cynthia would not rest till she had extractedsome kind of an opinion out of her.
"I suppose he will come home at Easter," said Cynthia, "and then Ishall see him for myself."
"It's a great pity that their being in mourning will prevent theirgoing to the Easter charity ball," said Mrs. Gibson, plaintively."I shan't like to take you two girls, if you are not to have anypartners. It will put me in such an awkward position. I wish we couldjoin on to the Towers party. That would secure you partners, for theyalways bring a number of dancing men, who might dance with you afterthey had done their duty by the ladies of the house. But reallyeverything is so changed since dear Lady Cumnor has been an invalidthat, perhaps, they won't go at all."
This Easter ball was a great subject of conversation with Mrs.Gibson. She sometimes spoke of it as her first appearance in societyas a bride, though she had been visiting once or twice a week allwinter long. Then she shifted her ground, and said she felt so muchinterest in it, because she would then have the responsibility ofintroducing both her own and Mr. Gibson's daughter to public notice,though the fact was that pretty nearly every one who was going tothis ball had seen the two young ladies--though not their balldresses--before. But, aping the manners of the aristocracy as faras she knew them, she intended to "bring out" Molly and Cynthia onthis occasion, which she regarded in something of the light of apresentation at Court. "They are not out yet," was her favouriteexcuse when either of them was invited to any house to which she didnot wish them to go, or they were invited without her. She even madea difficulty about their "not being out" when Miss Browning--thatold friend of the Gibson family--came in one morning to ask the twogirls to come to a friendly tea and a round game afterwards; thismild piece of gaiety being designed as an attention to three of Mrs.Goodenough's grandchildren--two young ladies and their schoolboybrother--who were staying on a visit t
o their grand-mamma.
"You are very kind, Miss Browning, but, you see, I hardly like to letthem go--they are not out, you know, till after the Easter ball."
"Till when we are invisible," said Cynthia, always ready with hermockery to exaggerate any pretension of her mother's. "We are so highin rank that our sovereign must give us her sanction before we canplay a round game at your house."
Cynthia enjoyed the idea of her own full-grown size and stately gait,as contrasted with that of a meek, half-fledged girl in the nursery;but Miss Browning was half puzzled and half affronted.
"I don't understand it at all. In my days girls went wherever itpleased people to ask them, without this farce of bursting out in alltheir new fine clothes at some public place. I don't mean but whatthe gentry took their daughters to York, or Matlock, or Bath, togive them a taste of gay society when they were growing up; and thequality went up to London, and their young ladies were presented toQueen Charlotte, and went to a birthday ball, perhaps. But for uslittle Hollingford people--why, we knew every child amongst us fromthe day of its birth; and many a girl of twelve or fourteen have Iseen go out to a card-party, and sit quiet at her work, and know howto behave as well as any lady there. There was no talk of 'comingout' in those days for any one under the daughter of a Squire."
"After Easter, Molly and I shall know how to behave at a card-party,but not before," said Cynthia, demurely.
"You're always fond of your quips and your cranks, my dear," saidMiss Browning, "and I wouldn't quite answer for your behaviour: yousometimes let your spirits carry you away. But I'm quite sure Mollywill be a little lady as she always is, and always was, and I haveknown her from a babe."
Mrs. Gibson took up arms on behalf of her own daughter, or, rather,she took up arms against Molly's praises.
"I don't think you would have called Molly a lady the other day,Miss Browning, if you had found her where I did: sitting up in acherry-tree, six feet from the ground at least, I do assure you."
"Oh! but that wasn't pretty," said Miss Browning, shaking her head atMolly. "I thought you'd left off those tom-boy ways."
"She wants the refinement which good society gives in several ways,"said Mrs. Gibson, returning to the attack on poor Molly. "She's veryapt to come upstairs two steps at a time."
"Only two, Molly!" said Cynthia. "Why, to-day I found I could managefour of these broad shallow steps."
"My dear child, what are you saying?"
"Only confessing that I, like Molly, want the refinements which goodsociety gives; therefore, please do let us go to Miss Brownings'this evening. I will pledge myself for Molly that she shan't sit ina cherry-tree; and Molly shall see that I don't go upstairs in anunladylike way. I will go upstairs as meekly as if I were a come-outyoung lady, and had been to the Easter ball."
So it was agreed that they should go. If Mr. Osborne Hamley had beennamed as one of the probable visitors, there would have been none ofthis difficulty about the affair.
But though he was not there, his brother Roger was. Molly saw him ina minute when she entered the little drawing-room; but Cynthia didnot.
"And see, my dears," said Miss Phoebe Browning, turning them roundto the side where Roger stood waiting for his turn of speakingto Molly, "we've got a gentleman for you after all! Wasn't itfortunate?--just as sister said that you might find it dull--you,Cynthia, she meant, because you know you come from France--then, justas if he had been sent from heaven, Mr. Roger came in to call; and Iwon't say we laid violent hands on him, because he was too good forthat; but really we should have been near it, if he had not stayed ofhis own accord."
The moment Roger had done his cordial greeting to Molly, he asked herto introduce him to Cynthia.
ROGER IS INTRODUCED AND ENSLAVED.]
"I want to know her--your new sister," he added, with the kind smileMolly remembered so well since the very first day she had seen itdirected towards her, as she sate crying under the weeping ash.Cynthia was standing a little behind Molly when Roger asked for thisintroduction. She was generally dressed with careless grace. Molly,who was delicate neatness itself, used sometimes to wonder howCynthia's tumbled gowns, tossed away so untidily, had the art oflooking so well, and falling in such graceful folds. For instance,the pale lilac muslin gown she wore this evening had been worn manytimes before, and had looked unfit to wear again till Cynthia putit on. Then the limpness became softness, and the very creases tookthe lines of beauty. Molly, in a daintily clean pink muslin, did notlook half so elegantly dressed as Cynthia. The grave eyes that thelatter raised when she had to be presented to Roger had a sort ofchild-like innocence and wonder about them, which did not quitebelong to Cynthia's character. She put on her armour of magic thatevening--involuntarily as she always did; but, on the other side, shecould not help trying her power on strangers. Molly had always feltthat she should have a right to a good long talk with Roger when shenext saw him; and that he would tell her, or she should gather fromhim all the details she so longed to hear about the Squire--aboutthe Hall--about Osborne--about himself. He was just as cordial andfriendly as ever with her. If Cynthia had not been there, all wouldhave gone on as she had anticipated; but of all the victims toCynthia's charms he fell most prone and abject. Molly saw it all,as she was sitting next to Miss Phoebe at the tea-table, actingright-hand, and passing cake, cream, sugar, with such busy assiduitythat every one besides herself thought that her mind, as well as herhands, was fully occupied. She tried to talk to the two shy girls,as in virtue of her two years' seniority she thought herself boundto do; and the consequence was, she went upstairs with the twainclinging to her arms, and willing to swear an eternal friendship.Nothing would satisfy them but that she must sit between them atvingt-un; and they were so desirous of her advice in the importantpoint of fixing the price of the counters that she could not everhave joined in the animated conversation going on between Roger andCynthia. Or, rather, it would be more correct to say that Roger wastalking in a most animated manner to Cynthia, whose sweet eyes werefixed upon his face with a look of great interest in all he wassaying, while it was only now and then she made her low replies.Molly caught a few words occasionally in intervals of business.
"At my uncle's, we always give a silver threepence for three dozen.You know what a silver threepence is, don't you, dear Miss Gibson?"
"The three classes are published in the Senate House at nine o'clockon the Friday morning, and you can't imagine--"
"I think it will be thought rather shabby to play at anything lessthan sixpence. That gentleman" (this in a whisper) "is at Cambridge,and you know they always play very high there, and sometimes ruinthemselves, don't they, dear Miss Gibson?"
"Oh, on this occasion the Master of Arts who precedes the candidatesfor honours when they go into the Senate House is called the Fatherof the College to which he belongs. I think I mentioned that before,didn't I?"
So Cynthia was hearing all about Cambridge, and the very examinationabout which Molly had felt such keen interest, without having everbeen able to have her questions answered by a competent personand Roger, to whom she had always looked as the final and mostsatisfactory answerer, was telling the whole of what she wanted toknow, and she could not listen. It took all her patience to make uplittle packets of counters, and settle, as the arbiter of the game,whether it would be better for the round or the oblong counters to bereckoned as six. And when all was done, and every one sate in theirplaces round the table, Roger and Cynthia had to be called twicebefore they came. They stood up, it is true, at the first sound oftheir names; but they did not move--Roger went on talking, Cynthialistening till the second call; when they hurried to the table andtried to appear, all on a sudden, quite interested in the greatquestions of the game--namely, the price of three dozen counters, andwhether, all things considered, it would be better to call the roundcounters or the oblong half-a-dozen each. Miss Browning, drumming thepack of cards on the table, and quite ready to begin dealing, decidedthe matter by saying, "Rounds are sixes, and three dozen countersc
ost sixpence. Pay up, if you please, and let us begin at once."Cynthia sate between Roger and William Orford, the young schoolboy,who bitterly resented on this occasion his sisters' habit of callinghim "Willie," as he thought it was this boyish sobriquet whichprevented Cynthia from attending as much to him as to Mr. RogerHamley; he also was charmed by the charmer, who found leisure togive him one or two of her sweet smiles. On his return home to hisgrand-mamma's, he gave out one or two very decided and rather originalopinions, quite opposed--as was natural--to his sisters'. One was--
"That, after all, a senior wrangler was no great shakes. Any manmight be one if he liked, but there were a lot of fellows that heknew who would be very sorry to go in for anything so slow."
Molly thought the game never would end. She had no particular turnfor gambling in her; and whatever her card might be, she regularlyput on two counters, indifferent as to whether she won or lost.Cynthia, on the contrary, staked high, and was at one time very rich,but ended by being in debt to Molly something like six shillings. Shehad forgotten her purse, she said, and was obliged to borrow from themore provident Molly, who was aware that the round game of which MissBrowning had spoken to her was likely to require money. If it wasnot a very merry affair for all the individuals concerned, it wasa very noisy one on the whole. Molly thought it was going to lasttill midnight; but punctually, as the clock struck nine, the littlemaid-servant staggered in under the weight of a tray loaded withsandwiches, cakes, and jelly. This brought on a general move; andRoger, who appeared to have been on the watch for something of thekind, came and took a chair by Molly.
"I am so glad to see you again--it seems such a long time sinceChristmas," said he, dropping his voice, and not alluding moreexactly to the day when she had left the Hall.
"It is a long time," she replied; "we are close to Easter now. Ihave so wanted to tell you how glad I was to hear about your honoursat Cambridge. I once thought of sending you a message throughyour brother, but then I thought it might be making too much fuss,because I know nothing of mathematics, or of the value of a seniorwranglership; and you were sure to have so many congratulations frompeople who did know."
"I missed yours though, Molly," said he, kindly. "But I felt sure youwere glad for me."
"Glad and proud too," said she. "I should so like to hear somethingmore about it. I heard you telling Cynthia--"
"Yes. What a charming person she is! I should think you must behappier than we expected long ago."
"But tell me something about the senior wranglership, please," saidMolly.
"It's a long story, and I ought to be helping the Miss Brownings tohand sandwiches--besides, you wouldn't find it very interesting, it'sso full of technical details."
"Cynthia looked very much interested," said Molly.
"Well! then I refer you to her, for I must go now. I can't for shamego on sitting here, and letting those good ladies have all thetrouble. But I shall come and call on Mrs. Gibson soon. Are youwalking home to-night?"
"Yes, I think so," replied Molly, eagerly foreseeing what was tocome.
"Then I shall walk home with you. I left my horse at the 'George,'and that's half-way. I suppose old Betty will allow me to accompanyyou and your sister? You used to describe her as something of adragon."
"Betty has left us," said Molly, sadly. "She's gone to live at aplace at Ashcombe."
He made a face of dismay, and then went off to his duties. The shortconversation had been very pleasant, and his manner had had just thebrotherly kindness of old times; but it was not quite the manner hehad to Cynthia; and Molly half thought she would have preferred thelatter. He was now hovering about Cynthia, who had declined the offerof refreshments from Willie Orford. Roger was tempting her, and withplayful entreaties urging her to take some thing from him. Every wordthey said could be heard by the whole room; yet every word was said,on Roger's part at least, as if he could not have spoken it in thatpeculiar manner to any one else. At length, and rather more becauseshe was weary of being entreated, than because it was his wish,Cynthia took a macaroon, and Roger seemed as happy as though shehad crowned him with flowers. The whole affair was as trifling andcommonplace as could be in itself; hardly worth noticing; and yetMolly did notice it, and felt uneasy; she could not tell why. As itturned out, it was a rainy night, and Mrs. Gibson sent a fly for thetwo girls instead of old Betty's substitute. Both Cynthia and Mollythought of the possibility of their taking the two Orford girls backto their grandmother's, and so saving them a wet walk; but Cynthiagot the start in speaking about it; and the thanks and the impliedpraise for thoughtfulness were hers.
When they got home Mr. and Mrs. Gibson were sitting in thedrawing-room, quite ready to be amused by any details of the evening.
Cynthia began,--
"Oh! it wasn't very entertaining. One didn't expect that," and sheyawned wearily.
"Who were there?" asked Mr. Gibson. "Quite a young party--wasn't it?"
"They'd only asked Lizzie and Fanny Orford, and their brother; butMr. Roger Hamley had ridden over and called on Miss Brownings, andthey kept him to tea. No one else."
"Roger Hamley there!" said Mr. Gibson. "He's come home then. I mustmake time to ride over and see him."
"You'd much better ask him here," said Mrs. Gibson. "Suppose youinvite him and his brother to dine here on Friday, my dear. It wouldbe a very pretty attention, I think."
"My dear! these young Cambridge men have a very good taste in wine,and don't spare it. My cellar won't stand many of their attacks."
"I didn't think you were so inhospitable, Mr. Gibson."
"I'm not inhospitable, I'm sure. If you'll put 'bitter beer' in thecorner of your notes of invitation, just as the smart people put'quadrilles' as a sign of the entertainment offered, we'll haveOsborne and Roger to dinner any day you like. And what did you thinkof my favourite, Cynthia? You hadn't seen him before, I think?"
"Oh! he's nothing like so handsome as his brother; nor so polished;nor so easy to talk to. He entertained me for more than an hour witha long account of some examination or other; but there's somethingone likes about him."
"Well--and Molly," said Mrs. Gibson, who piqued herself on being animpartial stepmother, and who always tried hard to make Molly talk asmuch as Cynthia,--"what sort of an evening have you had?"
"Very pleasant, thank you." Her heart a little belied her as she saidthis. She had not cared for the round game; and she would have caredfor Roger's conversation. She had had what she was indifferent to,and not had what she would have liked.
"We've had our unexpected visitor, too," said Mr. Gibson. "Just afterdinner, who should come in but Mr. Preston. I fancy he's havingmore of the management of the Hollingford property than formerly.Sheepshanks is getting an old man. And if so, I suspect we shallsee a good deal of Preston. He's 'no blate,' as they used to say inScotland, and made himself quite at home to-night. If I'd asked himto stay, or, indeed, if I'd done anything but yawn, he'd have beenhere now. But I defy any man to stay when I've a fit of yawning."
"Do you like Mr. Preston, papa?" asked Molly.
"About as much as I do half the men I meet. He talks well, and hasseen a good deal. I know very little of him, though, except that he'smy lord's steward, which is a guarantee for a good deal."
"Lady Harriet spoke pretty strongly against him that day I was withher at the Manor-house."
"Lady Harriet's always full of fancies: she likes persons to-day, anddislikes them to-morrow," said Mrs. Gibson, who was touched on hersore point whenever Molly quoted Lady Harriet, or said anything toimply ever so transitory an intimacy with her.
"You must know a good deal about Mr. Preston, my dear. I suppose yousaw a good deal of him at Ashcombe?"
Mrs. Gibson coloured, and looked at Cynthia before she replied.Cynthia's face was set into a determination not to speak, howevermuch she might be referred to.
"Yes; we saw a good deal of him--at one time, I mean. He'schangeable, I think. But he always sent us game, and sometimes fruit.There were some stories agains
t him, but I never believed them."
"What kind of stories?" said Mr. Gibson, quickly.
"Oh, vague stories, you know: scandal, I daresay. No one everbelieved them. He could be so agreeable if he chose; and my lord, whois so very particular, would never have kept him as agent if theywere true; not that I ever knew what they were, for I consider allscandal as abominable gossip."
"I'm very glad I yawned in his face," said Mr. Gibson. "I hope he'lltake the hint."
"If it was one of your giant-gapes, papa, I should call it more thana hint," said Molly. "And if you want a yawning chorus the next timehe comes, I'll join in; won't you, Cynthia?"
"I don't know," replied the latter, shortly, as she lighted herbed-candle. The two girls had usually some nightly conversation inone or other of their bed-rooms; but to-night Cynthia said somethingor other about being terribly tired, and hastily shut her door.
The very next day, Roger came to pay his promised call. Molly was outin the garden with Williams, planning the arrangement of some newflower-beds, and deep in her employment of placing pegs upon the lawnto mark out the different situations, when, standing up to mark theeffect, her eye was caught by the figure of a gentleman, sitting withhis back to the light, leaning forwards and talking, or listening,eagerly. Molly knew the shape of the head perfectly, and hastilybegan to put off her brown-holland gardening apron, emptying thepockets as she spoke to Williams.
"You can finish it now, I think," said she. "You know about thebright-coloured flowers being against the privet-hedge, and where thenew rose-bed is to be?"
"I can't justly say as I do," said he. "Mebbe, you'll just go o'er itall once again, Miss Molly. I'm not so young as I oncst was, and myhead is not so clear now-a-days, and I'd be loath to make mistakeswhen you're so set upon your plans."
Molly gave up her impulse in a moment. She saw that the old gardenerwas really perplexed, yet that he was as anxious as he could be to dohis best. So she went over the ground again, pegging and explainingtill the wrinkled brow was smooth again, and he kept saying, "I see,miss. All right, Miss Molly, I'se gotten it in my head as clear aspatchwork now."
So she could leave him, and go in. But just as she was close to thegarden door, Roger came out. It really was for once a case of virtueits own reward, for it was far pleasanter to her to have him in atete-a-tete, however short, than in the restraint of Mrs. Gibson'sand Cynthia's presence.
"I only just found out where you were, Molly. Mrs. Gibson said youhad gone out, but she didn't know where; and it was the greatestchance that I turned round and saw you."
"I saw you some time ago, but I couldn't leave Williams. I think hewas unusually slow to-day; and he seemed as if he couldn't understandmy plans for the new flower-beds."
"Is that the paper you've got in your hand? Let me look at it, willyou? Ah, I see! you've borrowed some of your ideas from our garden athome, haven't you? This bed of scarlet geraniums, with the border ofyoung oaks, pegged down! That was a fancy of my dear mother's."
They were both silent for a minute or two. Then Molly said,--
"How is the Squire? I've never seen him since."
"No, he told me how much he wanted to see you, but he couldn't makeup his mind to come and call. I suppose it would never do now for youto come and stay at the Hall, would it? It would give my father somuch pleasure: he looks upon you as a daughter, and I'm sure bothOsborne and I shall always consider you are like a sister to us,after all my mother's love for you, and your tender care of her atlast. But I suppose it wouldn't do."
"No! certainly not," said Molly, hastily.
"I fancy if you could come it would put us a little to rights. Youknow, as I think I once told you, Osborne has behaved differently towhat I should have done, though not wrongly,--only what I call anerror of judgment. But my father, I'm sure, has taken up some notionof--never mind; only the end of it is that he holds Osborne still intacit disgrace, and is miserable himself all the time. Osborne, too,is sore and unhappy, and estranged from my father. It is just whatmy mother would have put right very soon, and perhaps you couldhave done it--unconsciously, I mean--for this wretched mystery thatOsborne preserves about his affairs is at the root of it all. Butthere's no use talking about it; I don't know why I began." Then,with a wrench, changing the subject, while Molly still thought ofwhat he had been telling her, he broke out,--"I can't tell you howmuch I like Miss Kirkpatrick, Molly. It must be a great pleasure toyou having such a companion!"
"Yes," said Molly, half smiling. "I'm very fond of her; and I think Ilike her better every day I know her. But how quickly you have foundout her virtues!"
"I didn't say 'virtues,' did I?" asked he, reddening, but puttingthe question in all good faith. "Yet I don't think one could bedeceived in that face. And Mrs. Gibson appears to be a very friendlyperson,--she has asked Osborne and me to dine here on Friday."
"Bitter beer" came into Molly's mind; but what she said was, "And areyou coming?"
"Certainly, I am, unless my father wants me; and I've given Mrs.Gibson a conditional promise for Osborne, too. So I shall see you allvery soon again. But I must go now. I have to keep an appointmentseven miles from here in half-an-hour's time. Good luck to yourflower-garden, Molly."
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