CHAPTER XXXIII.
BRIGHTENING PROSPECTS.
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It was a day or two afterwards, that Mr. Gibson made time to rideround by Hamley, desirous to learn more exact particulars of thisscheme for Roger than he could obtain from any extraneous source, andrather puzzled to know whether he should interfere in the project ornot. The state of the case was this:--Osborne's symptoms were, in Mr.Gibson's opinion, signs of his having a fatal disease. Dr. Nichollshad differed from him on this head, and Mr. Gibson knew that the oldphysician had had long experience, and was considered very skilfulin the profession. Still he believed that he himself was right, and,if so, the complaint was one which might continue for years in thesame state as at present, or might end the young man's life in anhour--a minute. Supposing that Mr. Gibson was right, would it be wellfor Roger to be away where no sudden calls for his presence couldreach him--away for two years? Yet if the affair was concluded, theinterference of a medical man might accelerate the very evil to befeared; and after all, Dr. Nicholls might be right, and the symptomsmight proceed from some other cause. Might? Yes. Probably did? No.Mr. Gibson could not bring himself to say "yes" to this latter formof sentence. So he rode on, meditating; his reins slack, his heada little bent. It was one of those still and lovely autumn dayswhen the red and yellow leaves are hanging-pegs to dewy, brilliantgossamer-webs; when the hedges are full of trailing brambles, loadedwith ripe blackberries; when the air is full of the farewell whistlesand pipes of birds, clear and short--not the long full-throatedwarbles of spring; when the whirr of the partridge's wings is heardin the stubble-fields, as the sharp hoof-blows fall on the pavedlanes; when here and there a leaf floats and flutters down to theground, although there is not a single breath of wind. The countrysurgeon felt the beauty of the seasons perhaps more than most men.He saw more of it by day, by night, in storm and sunshine, or in thestill, soft, cloudy weather. He never spoke about what he felt onthe subject; indeed, he did not put his feelings into words, even tohimself. But if his mood ever approached to the sentimental, it wason such days as this. He rode into the stable-yard, gave his horse toa man, and went into the house by a side entrance. In the passage hemet the Squire.
"That's capital, Gibson! what good wind blew you here? You'll havesome lunch? it's on the table, I only just this minute left theroom." And he kept shaking Mr. Gibson's hand all the time till he hadplaced him, nothing loth, at the well-covered dining-table.
"What's this I hear about Roger?" said Mr. Gibson, plunging at onceinto the subject.
"Aha! so you've heard, have you? It's famous, isn't it? He's a boy tobe proud of, is old Roger. Steady Roger; we used to think him slow,but it seems to me that slow and sure wins the race. But tell me;what have you heard? how much is known? Nay, you must have a glassfull. It's old ale, such as we don't brew now-a-days; it's as oldas Osborne. We brewed it that autumn, and we called it the youngsquire's ale. I thought to have tapped it on his marriage, but Idon't know when that will come to pass, so we've tapped it now inRoger's honour."
The old squire had evidently been enjoying the young squire's aleto the verge of prudence. It was indeed as he said, "as strong asbrandy," and Mr. Gibson had to sip it very carefully as he ate hiscold roast beef.
"Well! and what have you heard? There's a deal to hear, and all goodnews, though I shall miss the lad, I know that."
"I did not know it was settled; I only heard that it was inprogress."
"Well, it was only in progress, as you call it, till last Tuesday.He never let me know anything about it, though; he says he thought Imight be fidgety with thinking of the pros and cons. So I never knewa word on't till I had a letter from my Lord Hollingford--where isit?" pulling out a great black leathern receptacle for all manner ofpapers. And putting on his spectacles, he read aloud their headings.
"'Measurement of timber, new railings,' 'drench for cows, from FarmerHayes,' 'Dobson's accounts,'--'um 'um--here it is. Now read thatletter," handing it to Mr. Gibson.
It was a manly, feeling, sensible letter, explaining to the oldfather in very simple language the services which were demandedby the terms of the will to which he and two or three others weretrustees; the liberal allowance for expenses, the still more liberalreward for performance, which had tempted several men of considerablerenown to offer themselves as candidates for the appointment. LordHollingford then went on to say that, having seen a good deal ofRoger lately, since the publication of his article in reply to theFrench osteologist, he had had reason to think that in him thetrustees would find united the various qualities required in agreater measure than in any of the applicants who had at that timepresented themselves. Roger had deep interest in the subject; muchacquired knowledge, and at the same time, great natural powers ofcomparison, and classification of facts; he had shown himself to bean observer of a fine and accurate kind; he was of the right age, inthe very prime of health and strength, and unshackled by any familyties. Here Mr. Gibson paused for consideration. He hardly cared toascertain by what steps the result had been arrived at--he alreadyknew what that result was; but his mind was again arrested as his eyecaught on the remuneration offered, which was indeed most liberal;and then he read with attention the high praise bestowed on theson in this letter to the father. The Squire had been watching Mr.Gibson--waiting till he came to this part--and he rubbed his handstogether as he said,--
"Ay! you've come to it at last. It's the best part of the whole,isn't it? God bless the boy! and from a Whig, mind you, which makesit the more handsome. And there's more to come still. I say, Gibson,I think my luck is turning at last," passing him on yet anotherletter to read. "That only came this morning; but I've acted on italready, I sent for the foreman of the drainage works at once, I did;and to-morrow, please God, they'll be at work again."
Mr. Gibson read the second letter, from Roger. To a certain degreeit was a modest repetition of what Lord Hollingford had said, withan explanation of how he had come to take so decided a step in lifewithout consulting his father. He did not wish him to be in suspensefor one reason. Another was that he felt, as no one else could feelfor him, that by accepting this offer, he entered upon the kind oflife for which he knew himself to be most fitted. And then he mergedthe whole into business. He said that he knew well the suffering hisfather had gone through when he had had to give up his drainage worksfor want of money; that he, Roger, had been enabled at once to raisemoney upon the remuneration he was to receive on the accomplishmentof his two years' work; and that he had also insured his life, inorder to provide for the repayment of the money he had raised, incase he did not live to return to England. He said that the sum hehad borrowed on this security would at once be forwarded to hisfather.
Mr. Gibson laid down the letter without speaking a word for sometime; then he said,--"He'll have to pay a pretty sum for insuring hislife beyond seas."
"He's got his Fellowship money," said the Squire, a little depressedat Mr. Gibson's remark.
"Yes; that's true. And he's a strong young fellow, as I know."
"I wish I could tell his mother," said the Squire in an under-tone.
"It seems all settled now," said Mr. Gibson, more in reply to his ownthoughts than to the Squire's remark.
"Yes!" said the Squire; "and they're not going to let the grass growunder his feet. He's to be off as soon as he can get his scientifictraps ready. I almost wish he wasn't to go. You don't seem quite tolike it, doctor?"
"Yes, I do," said Mr. Gibson in a more cheerful tone than before. "Itcan't be helped now without doing a mischief," thought he to himself."Why, Squire, I think it a great honour to have such a son. I envyyou, that's what I do. Here's a lad of three or four and twentydistinguishing himself in more ways than one, and as simple andaffectionate at home as any fellow need to be--not a bit set up."
"Ay, ay; he's twice as much a son to me as Osborne, who has been allhis life set up on nothing at all, as one may say."
"Come, Squire, I mustn't hear anything against Osborne; we may pr
aiseone, without hitting at the other. Osborne hasn't had the stronghealth which has enabled Roger to work as he has done. I met a manwho knew his tutor at Trinity the other day, and of course we begancracking about Roger--it's not every day that one can reckon a seniorwrangler amongst one's friends, and I'm nearly as proud of the ladas you are. This Mr. Mason told me the tutor said that only half ofRoger's success was owing to his mental powers; the other half wasowing to his perfect health, which enabled him to work harder andmore continuously than most men without suffering. He said that inall his experience he had never known any one with an equal capacityfor mental labour; and that he could come again with a fresh appetiteto his studies after shorter intervals of rest than most. Now I,being a doctor, trace a good deal of his superiority to the materialcause of a thoroughly good constitution, which Osborne hasn't got."
"Osborne might have, if he got out o' doors more," said the Squire,moodily; "but except when he can loaf into Hollingford he doesn'tcare to go out at all. I hope," he continued, with a glance of suddensuspicion at Mr. Gibson, "he's not after one of your girls? I don'tmean any offence, you know; but he'll have the estate, and it won'tbe free, and he must marry money. I don't think I could allow it inRoger; but Osborne's the eldest son, you know."
Mr. Gibson reddened; he was offended for a moment. Then the partialtruth of what the Squire said was presented to his mind, and heremembered their old friendship, so he spoke quietly, if shortly.
"I don't believe there's anything of the kind going on. I'm not muchat home, you know; but I've never heard or seen anything that shouldmake me suppose that there is. When I do, I'll let you know."
"Now, Gibson, don't go and be offended. I'm glad for the boys to havea pleasant house to go to, and I thank you and Mrs. Gibson for makingit pleasant. Only keep off love; it can come to no good. That'sall. I don't believe Osborne will ever earn a farthing to keep awife during my life, and if I were to die to-morrow, she would haveto bring some money to clear the estate. And if I do speak as Ishouldn't have done formerly--a little sharp or so--why, it's becauseI've been worried by many a care no one knows anything of."
"I'm not going to take offence," said Mr. Gibson, "but let usunderstand each other clearly. If you don't want your sons to comeas much to my house as they do, tell them so yourself. I like thelads, and am glad to see them; but if they do come, you must take theconsequences, whatever they are, and not blame me, or them either,for what may happen from the frequent intercourse between two youngmen and two young women; and what is more, though, as I said, I seenothing whatever of the kind you fear at present, and have promisedto tell you of the first symptoms I do see, yet farther than thatI won't go. If there's an attachment at any future time, I won'tinterfere."
"I shouldn't so much mind if Roger fell in love with your Molly. Hecan fight for himself, you see, and she's an uncommon nice girl. Mypoor wife was so fond of her," answered the Squire. "It's Osborne andthe estate I'm thinking of!"
"Well, then, tell him not to come near us. I shall be sorry, but youwill be safe."
"I'll think about it; but he's difficult to manage. I've always toget my blood well up before I can speak my mind to him."
Mr. Gibson was leaving the room, but at these words he turned andlaid his hand on the Squire's arm.
"Take my advice, Squire. As I said, there's no harm done as yet, asfar as I know. Prevention is better than cure. Speak out, but speakgently to Osborne, and do it at once. I shall understand how it is ifhe doesn't show his face for some months in my house. If you speakgently to him, he'll take the advice as from a friend. If he canassure you there's no danger, of course he'll come just as usual,when he likes."
It was all very fine giving the Squire this good advice; but asOsborne had already formed the very kind of marriage his father mostdeprecated, it did not act quite as well as Mr. Gibson had hoped. TheSquire began the conversation with unusual self-control; but he grewirritated when Osborne denied his father's right to interfere in anymarriage he might contemplate; denied it with a certain degree ofdoggedness and weariness of the subject that drove the Squire intoone of his passions; and although, on after reflection, he rememberedthat he had his son's promise and solemn word not to think of eitherCynthia or Molly for his wife, yet the father and son had passedthrough one of those altercations which help to estrange men forlife. Each had said bitter things to the other; and, if the brotherlyaffection had not been so true between Osborne and Roger, theytoo might have become alienated, in consequence of the Squire'sexaggerated and injudicious comparison of their characters and deeds.But as Roger in his boyhood had loved Osborne too well to be jealousof the praise and love which the eldest son, the beautiful brilliantlad, had received, to the disparagement of his own plain awkwardnessand slowness, so now Osborne strove against any feeling of envy orjealousy with all his might; but his efforts were conscious, Roger'shad been the simple consequence of affection, and the end to poorOsborne was that he became moody and depressed in mind and body; butboth father and son concealed their feelings in Roger's presence.When he came home just before sailing, busy and happy, the Squirecaught his infectious energy, and Osborne looked up and was cheerful.
There was no time to be lost. He was bound to a hot climate, and musttake all advantage possible of the winter months. He was to go firstto Paris, to have interviews with some of the scientific men there.Some of his outfit, instruments, &c., were to follow him to Havre,from which port he was to embark, after transacting his business inParis. The Squire learnt all his arrangements and plans, and eventried in after-dinner conversations to penetrate into the questionsinvolved in the researches his son was about to make. But Roger'svisit home could not be prolonged beyond two days.
The last day he rode into Hollingford earlier than he needed to havedone to catch the London coach, in order to bid the Gibsons good-by.He had been too actively busy for some time to have leisure to bestowmuch thought on Cynthia; but there was no need for fresh meditationon that subject. Her image as a prize to be worked for, to be servedfor seven years, and seven years more, was safe and sacred in hisheart. It was very bad, this going away, and wishing her good-byfor two long years; and he wondered much during his ride how far heshould be justified in telling her mother, perhaps in telling her ownsweet self, what his feelings were without expecting, nay, indeedreprobating, any answer on her part. Then she would know at anyrate how dearly she was beloved by one who was absent; how in alldifficulties or dangers the thought of her would be a polar star,high up in the heavens, and so on, and so on for with all a lover'squickness of imagination and triteness of fancy, he called hera star, a flower, a nymph, a witch, an angel, or a mermaid, anightingale, a siren, as one or another of her attributes rose upbefore him.
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