Wives and Daughters

by Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell

  CHAPTER XXXVI.

  DOMESTIC DIPLOMACY.

  The evening of the day on which Mr. Gibson had been to see theSquire, the three women were alone in the drawing-room, for Mr.Gibson had had a long round and was not as yet come in. They had hadto wait dinner for him; and for some time after his return there wasnothing done or said but what related to the necessary business ofeating. Mr. Gibson was, perhaps, as well satisfied with his day'swork as any of the four; for this visit to the Squire had beenweighing on his mind ever since he had heard of the state of thingsbetween Roger and Cynthia. He did not like the having to go andtell of a love-affair so soon after he had declared his beliefthat no such thing existed; it was a confession of fallibilitywhich is distasteful to most men. If the Squire had not been ofso unsuspicious and simple a nature, he might have drawn his ownconclusions from the apparent concealment of facts, and felt doubtfulof Mr. Gibson's perfect honesty in the business; but being whathe was, there was no danger of such unjust misapprehension. StillMr. Gibson knew the hot hasty temper he had to deal with, and hadexpected more violence of language than he really encountered; andthe last arrangement by which Cynthia, her mother, and Molly--who, asMr. Gibson thought to himself, and smiled at the thought, was sure tobe a peacemaker, and a sweetener of intercourse--were to go to theHall and make acquaintance with the Squire, appeared like a greatsuccess to Mr. Gibson, for achieving which he took not a littlecredit to himself. Altogether, he was more cheerful and bland than hehad been for many days; and when he came up into the drawing-room fora few minutes after dinner, before going out again to see his townpatients, he whistled a little under his breath, as he stood with hisback to the fire, looking at Cynthia, and thinking that he had notdone her justice when describing her to the Squire. Now this soft,almost tuneless whistling, was to Mr. Gibson what purring is to acat. He could no more have done it with an anxious case on his mind,or when he was annoyed by human folly, or when he was hungry, thanhe could have flown through the air. Molly knew all this by instinct,and was happy without being aware of it, as soon as she heard the lowwhistle which was no music after all. But Mrs. Gibson did not likethis trick of her husband's; it was not refined she thought, not even"artistic;" if she could have called it by this fine word it wouldhave compensated her for the want of refinement. To-night it wasparticularly irritating to her nerves; but since her conversationwith Mr. Gibson about Cynthia's engagement, she had not felt herselfin a sufficiently good position to complain.

  Mr. Gibson began,--"Well, Cynthia; I've seen the Squire to-day, andmade a clean breast of it."

  Cynthia looked up quickly, questioning with her eyes; Molly stoppedher netting to listen; no one spoke.

  "You're all to go there on Thursday to lunch; he asked you all, and Ipromised for you."

  Still no reply; natural, perhaps, but very flat.

  "You'll be glad of that, Cynthia, shan't you?" asked Mr. Gibson. "Itmay be a little formidable, but I hope it will be the beginning of agood understanding between you."

  "Thank you!" said she, with an effort. "But--but won't it make itpublic? I do so wish not to have it known, or talked about, not tillhe comes back or close upon the marriage."

  "I don't see how it should make it public," said Mr. Gibson. "Mywife goes to lunch with my friend, and takes her daughters withher--there's nothing in that, is there?"

  "I am not sure that I shall go," put in Mrs. Gibson. She did notknow why she said it, for she fully intended to go all the time; buthaving said it, she was bound to stick to it for a little while; and,with such a husband as hers, the hard necessity was sure to fall uponher of having to find a reason for her saying. Then it came, quickand sharp.

  "Why not?" said he, turning round upon her.

  "Oh, because--because I think he ought to have called on Cynthiafirst; I've that sort of sensitiveness I can't bear to think of herbeing slighted because she is poor."

  "Nonsense!" said Mr. Gibson. "I do assure you, no slight whateverwas intended. He does not wish to speak about the engagement to anyone--not even to Osborne--that's your wish, too, isn't it, Cynthia?Nor does he intend to mention it to any of you when you go there;but, naturally enough, he wants to make acquaintance with his futuredaughter-in-law. If he deviated so much from his usual course as tocome calling here--"

  "I am sure I don't want him to come calling here," said Mrs. Gibson,interrupting. "He was not so very agreeable the only time he didcome. But I am that sort of a character that I cannot put up withany neglect of persons I love, just because they are not smiled uponby fortune." She sighed a little ostentatiously as she ended hersentence.

  "Well, then, you won't go!" said Mr. Gibson, provoked, but notwishing to have a long discussion, especially as he felt his tempergoing.

  "Do you wish it, Cynthia?" said Mrs. Gibson, anxious for an excuse toyield.

  But her daughter was quite aware of this motive for the question, andreplied quietly,--"Not particularly, mamma. I am quite willing torefuse the invitation."

  "It is already accepted," said Mr. Gibson, almost ready to vowthat he would never again meddle in any affair in which women wereconcerned, which would effectually shut him out from all love-affairsfor the future. He had been touched by the Squire's relenting,pleased with what he had thought would give others pleasure, and thiswas the end of it!

  "Oh, do go, Cynthia!" said Molly, pleading with her eyes as well asher words. "Do; I am sure you will like the Squire; and it is such apretty place, and he'll be so much disappointed."

  "I should not like to give up my dignity," said Cynthia, demurely."And you heard what mamma said!"

  It was very malicious of her. She fully intended to go, and wasequally sure that her mother was already planning her dress for theoccasion in her own mind. Mr. Gibson, however, who, surgeon thoughhe was, had never learnt to anatomize a woman's heart, took it allliterally, and was excessively angry both with Cynthia and hermother; so angry that he did not dare to trust himself to speak. Hewent quickly to the door, intending to leave the room; but his wife'svoice arrested him; she said,--

  "My dear, do you wish me to go? if you do, I will put my own feelingson one side."

  "Of course I do!" he said, short and stern, and left the room.

  "Then I'll go!" said she, in the voice of a victim--those words weremeant for him, but he hardly heard them. "And we'll have a fly fromthe 'George,' and get a livery-coat for Thomas, which I've long beenwanting, only dear Mr. Gibson did not like it, but on an occasionlike this I'm sure he won't mind; and Thomas shall go on the box,and--"

  "But, mamma, I've my feelings too," said Cynthia.

  "Nonsense, child! when all is so nicely arranged too."

  So they went on the day appointed. Mr. Gibson was aware of the changeof plans, and that they were going after all; but he was so muchannoyed by the manner in which his wife had received an invitationthat appeared to him so much kinder than he had expected from hisprevious knowledge of the Squire, and his wishes on the subject ofhis sons' marriage, that Mrs. Gibson heard neither interest norcuriosity expressed by her husband as to the visit itself, or thereception they met with. Cynthia's indifference as to whether theinvitation was accepted or not had displeased Mr. Gibson. He was notup to her ways with her mother, and did not understand how much ofthis said indifference had been assumed in order to countervent Mrs.Gibson's affectation and false sentiment. But for all his annoyanceon the subject, he was, in fact, very curious to know how the visithad gone off, and took the first opportunity of being alone withMolly to question her about the lunch of the day before at HamleyHall.

  "And so you went to Hamley yesterday after all?"

  "Yes; I thought you would have come. The Squire seemed quite toexpect you."

  "I thought of going there at first; but I changed my mind likeother people. I don't see why women are to have a monopoly ofchangeableness. Well! how did it go off? Pleasantly, I suppose, forboth your mother and Cynthia were in high spirits last night."

  "Yes. The dear old Squire was in his best dress and o
n his bestbehaviour, and was so prettily attentive to Cynthia, and she lookedso lovely, walking about with him, and listening to all his talkabout the garden and farm. Mamma was tired, and stopped in-doors, sothey got on very well, and saw a great deal of each other."

  "And my little girl trotted behind?"

  "Oh, yes. You know I was almost at home, and besides--of course--"Molly went very red, and left the sentence unfinished.

  "Do you think she's worthy of him?" asked her father, just as if shehad completed her speech.

  "Of Roger, papa? oh, who is? But she is very sweet, and very, verycharming."

  "Very charming if you will, but somehow I don't quite understand her.Why does she want all this secrecy? Why was she not more eager to goand pay her duty to Roger's father? She took it as coolly as if I'dasked her to go to church!"

  "I don't think she did take it coolly; I believe I don't quiteunderstand her either, but I love her dearly all the same."

  "Umph; I like to understand people thoroughly, but I know it's notnecessary to women. D'ye really think she's worthy of him?"

  "Oh, papa--" said Molly, and then she stopped; she wanted to speak infavour of Cynthia, but somehow she could form no reply that pleasedher to this repeated inquiry. He did not seem much to care whether hegot an answer or not, for he went on with his own thoughts, and theresult was that he asked Molly if Cynthia had heard from Roger.

  "Yes; on Wednesday morning."

  "Did she show it to you? But of course not. Besides, I read theSquire's letter, which told all about him."

  Now Cynthia, rather to Molly's surprise, had told her that she mightread the letter if she liked, and Molly had shrunk from availingherself of the permission, for Roger's sake. She thought that hewould probably have poured out his heart to the one sole person, andthat it was not fair to listen, as it were, to his confidences.

  "Was Osborne at home?" asked Mr. Gibson. "The Squire said he didnot think he would have come back; but the young fellow is souncertain--"

  "No, he was still from home." Then Molly blushed all over crimson,for it suddenly struck her that Osborne was probably with hiswife--that mysterious wife, of whose existence she was cognizant,but of whom she knew so little, and of whom her father knew nothing.Mr. Gibson noticed the blush with anxiety. What did it mean? It wastroublesome enough to find that one of the Squire's precious sonshad fallen in love within the prohibited ranks; and what would nothave to be said and done if anything fresh were to come out betweenOsborne and Molly? He spoke out at once to relieve himself of thisnew apprehension.

  "Molly, I was taken by surprise by this affair between Cynthia andRoger Hamley--if there's anything more on the tapis let me know atonce, honestly and openly. I know it's an awkward question for you toreply to; but I wouldn't ask it unless I had good reasons." He tookher hand as he spoke. She looked up at him with clear, truthful eyes,which filled with tears as she spoke. She did not know why the tearscame; perhaps it was because she was not so strong as formerly.

  "If you mean that you're afraid that Osborne thinks of me as Rogerthinks of Cynthia, papa, you are quite mistaken. Osborne and I arefriends and nothing more, and never can be anything more. That's allI can tell you."

  "It's quite enough, little one. It's a great relief. I don't want tohave my Molly carried off by any young man just yet; I should missher sadly." He could not help saying this in the fulness of his heartjust then, but he was surprised at the effect these few tender wordsproduced. Molly threw her arms round his neck, and began to sobbitterly, her head lying on his shoulder. "There, there!" said he,patting her on the back, and leading her to the sofa, "that will do.I get quite enough of tears in the day, shed for real causes, not towant them at home, where, I hope, they are shed for no cause at all.There's nothing really the matter, is there, my dear?" he continued,holding her a little away from him that he might look in her face.She smiled at him through her tears; and he did not see the look ofsadness which returned to her face after he had left her.

  "Nothing, dear, dear papa--nothing now. It is such a comfort to haveyou all to myself--it makes me happy."

  Mr. Gibson knew all implied in these words, and felt that there wasno effectual help for the state of things which had arisen from hisown act. It was better for them both that they should not speak outmore fully. So he kissed her, and said,--

  "That's right, dear! I can leave you in comfort now, and indeed I'vestayed too long already gossiping. Go out and have a walk--takeCynthia with you, if you like. I must be off. Good-by, little one."

  His commonplace words acted like an astringent on Molly's relaxedfeelings. He intended that they should do so; it was the truestkindness to her; but he walked away from her with a sharp pang at hisheart, which he stunned into numbness as soon as he could by throwinghimself violently into the affairs and cares of others.