Molly Gibson

“ Sheepshanks came round the bend of the road and was close upon them. Mr. Preston saw, if Molly did not, the sudden look of intelligence that dawned upon the shrewd ruddy face of the old gentleman—saw, but did not much heed. He went forwards and spoke to Mr. Sheepshanks, who made a halt right before them.
'Miss Gibson! your servant! Rather a blustering day for a young lady to be out, and cold, I should say, for standing still too long; eh, Preston?' poking his whip at the latter in a knowing manner. ”

“ Mr. Gibson came in rubbing his hands after his frosty ride. Molly judged from the look in his eye that he had been fully informed of the present state of things at the Hall by some one. But he simply went up to and greeted the squire, and waited to hear what was said to him. The squire was fumbling at the taper on the writing-table, and before he answered much he lighted it, and signing to his friend to follow him, he went softly to the sofa and showed him the sleeping child, taking the utmost care not to arouse it by flare or sound. ”

“ So Mr. Gibson rode round to the stables, left his horse there, and made his way through the house to the open-air summer-parlour under the cedar-tree, where there were chairs, table, books, and tangled work. Somehow, he rather disliked asking for Molly to prolong her visit; so he determined to swallow his bitter first, and then take the pleasure of the delicious day, the sweet repose, the murmurous, scented air. Molly stood by him, her hand on his shoulder. He sate opposite to Mrs. Hamley.
"I've come here to-day to ask a favour," he began.
"Granted before you name it. Am not I a bold woman?" ”

“ It is true she looked pale and heavy-eyed, but that was the only sign she gave of her past trouble, which yet must be a present care, thought Molly. After dinner, Mr. Gibson went out to his town patients; Mrs. Gibson subsided into her arm-chair, holding a sheet of The Times before her, behind which she took a quiet and lady-like doze. Cynthia had a book in one hand, with the other she shaded her eyes from the light. Molly alone could neither read, nor sleep, nor work. She sate in the seat in the bow-window; the blind was not drawn down, for there was no danger of their being overlooked. ”

“ You could never understand him.'
'It seems to me that this mysterious "he" is a very fortunate person to have such a warm defender in Miss Gibson, to whom he is not at all engaged,' said Mr. Preston, with so disagreeable a look on his face that Molly suddenly found herself on the point of bursting into tears. But she rallied herself, and worked on—for Cynthia first, and for Roger as well.
'No honourable man or woman will read your letters, and if any people do read them, they will be so much ashamed of it that they won't dare to speak of them. ”

“ Gibson softly reproached Molly for her obstinacy.
"You might have allowed me to beg for a new gown for you, Molly, when you knew how much I had admired that figured silk at Brown's the other day. And now, of course, I can't be so selfish as to get it for myself, and you to have nothing. You should learn to understand the wishes of other people. Still, on the whole, you are a dear, sweet girl, and I only wish—well, I know what I wish; only dear papa does not like it to be talked about. And now cover me up close, and let me go to sleep, and dream about my dear Cynthia and my new shawl!" ”

“ Oh, sister, is he a drunkard? and we have had him to tea!'
'I did not say he was a drunkard, Phoebe,' said Miss Browning, pettishly. 'A man may take too much wine occasionally, without being a drunkard. Don't let me hear you using such coarse words, Phoebe!'
Miss Phoebe was silent for a time after this rebuke.
'Presently she said, 'I do hope it was not Molly Gibson.'
'You may hope as much as you like, but I'm pretty sure it was. However, we'd better say nothing about it to Mrs. Goodenough; she has got Cynthia into her head, and there let her rest. ”

“ Why, Molly! I look upon you as a kind of a daughter more than Madam there!' dropping his voice a little, and perhaps supposing that the child's babble would drown the signification of his words.—'Nay, you need not look at me so pitifully—she does not follow English readily.'
'I think she does!' said Molly, in a low voice, not looking up, however, for fear of catching another glimpse at Aimee's sudden forlornness of expression and deepened colour. ”

“ Molly was alone in the dining-room, where the table was already laid. She had just finished reading her letter when the squire came in, and she immediately and joyfully told him what the morning had brought to her. But when she saw the squire's face she could have bitten her tongue out for having named Cynthia's name to him. He looked vexed and depressed.
'I wish I might never hear of her again. I do. She's been the bane of my Roger, that's what she has. I have not slept half the night, and it's all her fault. Why, there's my boy saying now that he has no heart for ever marrying, poor lad! ”

“ Gibson was touched; he shook her hand again, and murmured, 'You're a good girl, Cynthia.'
'She's heard one of dear Lady Harriet's exaggerated accounts,' said Mrs. Gibson, 'and come straight off. I tell her it's very foolish, for really Molly is a great deal better now.'
'Very foolish,' said Mr. Gibson, echoing his wife's words, but smiling at Cynthia. 'But sometimes one likes foolish people for their folly, better than wise people for their wisdom.'
'I am afraid folly always annoys me,' said his wife. ”

“ Molly was fully conscious of this prolonged look, and was trying to get up her courage to return the stare, when Lady Harriet suddenly said,—
'I like you;—you are a little wild creature, and I want to tame you. Come here, and sit on this stool by me. What is your name? or what do they call you?—as North-country people would express it.'
'Molly Gibson. My real name is Mary.'
'Molly is a nice, soft-sounding name. People in the last century weren't afraid of homely names; now we are all so smart and fine: no more "Lady Bettys" now. ”

“ Gibson's habit, as it had been Mr. Hall's before him, to take two 'pupils,' as they were called in the genteel language of Hollingford, 'apprentices,' as they were in fact—being bound by indentures, and paying a handsome premium' to learn their business. They lived in the house, and occupied an uncomfortable, ambiguous, or, as Miss Browning called it with some truth, 'amphibious' position. They had their meals with Mr. Gibson and Molly, and were felt to be terribly in the way; Mr. Gibson not being a man who could make conversation, and hating the duty of talking under restraint. ”

“ Gibson had declined taking a fresh pupil, in the hopes of shaking himself free from the incubus, but his reputation as a clever surgeon had spread so rapidly that fees which he had thought prohibitory, were willingly paid, in order that the young man might make a start in life, with the prestige of having been a pupil of Gibson of Hollingford. But as Molly grew to be a little girl instead of a child, when she was about eight years old, her father perceived the awkwardness of her having her breakfasts and dinners so often alone with the pupils, without his uncertain presence. ”

“ Now little Molly Gibson has a certain gaucherie about her which would disqualify her at once from any clandestine proceedings. Besides, "clandestine!" why, the child is truth itself. Papa, are you sure Mr. Sheepshanks said it was Miss Gibson that was exciting Hollingford scandal? Wasn't it Miss Kirkpatrick? The notion of her and Mr. Preston making a match of it does not sound so incongruous ”

“ Gibson is a deep un. There's Mr. Roger Hamley as like as not to have the Hall estate, and she sends Molly a-visiting—' and then she passed out of hearing. Molly could have burst out crying, with a full sudden conviction of what Mrs. Goodenough had been alluding to: her sense of the impropriety of Molly's going to visit at the Hall when Roger was at home. To be sure Mrs. Goodenough was a commonplace, unrefined woman. Mrs. Gibson did not seem to have even noticed the allusion. Mr. Gibson took it all as a matter of course that Molly should go to the Hall as simply now, as she had done before. ”

“ Gibson to come out to the Towers for a long day; we will send the carriage for her whenever she will let us know that she is strong enough to come. Indeed, she had better come for a few days; at this time of the year it does not do for an invalid to be out in the evenings, even in a carriage.' So spoke Lady Harriet, standing on the white door-steps at Miss Brownings', and holding Molly's hand while she wished her good-by. ”

“ Gibson did not like this divided interest, and some of her old jealousy of Molly's intimacy at the Towers had returned.
'Now, Molly,' said Miss Browning, 'let us hear how you behaved among the great folks. You must not be set up with all their attention; remember that they pay it to you for your good father's sake.'
'Molly is, I think, quite aware,' put in Mrs. Gibson, in her most soft and languid tone, 'that she owes her privilege of visiting at such a house to Lady Cumnor's kind desire to set my mind quite at liberty at the time of Cynthia's marriage. ”

“ And so it went on during all the time of her visit. If sometimes she forgot and let herself go into all her old naturalness, by-and-by she checked herself, and became comparatively cold and reserved. Roger was pained at all this—more pained day after day; more anxious to discover the cause. Aimee, too, silently noticed how different Molly became in Roger's presence. One day she could not help saying to Molly,—
'Don't you like Roger? You would if you only knew how good he was! He is learned, but that is nothing; it is his goodness that one admires and loves.'
'He is very good,' said Molly. ”

“ But he was always a man for immediate action as soon as he had resolved on the course to be taken; and he knew that 'some must watch, while some must sleep; so runs the world away.'
The illness which he apprehended came upon Molly; not violently or acutely, so that there was any immediate danger to be dreaded; but making a long pull upon her strength, which seemed to lessen day by day, until at last her father feared that she might become a permanent invalid. There was nothing very decided or alarming to tell Cynthia, and Mrs. Gibson kept the dark side from her in her letters. ”

“ Molly opened it, and there stood Miss Browning, in a wonderful erection of a nightcap, and scantily attired in a coloured calico jacket over her scrimpy and short white petticoat.
'I was afraid you were asleep, child,' said she, coming in and shutting the door. 'But I wanted to say to you we've got wrong to-day, somehow; and I think it was perhaps my doing. It's as well Phoebe shouldn't know, for she thinks me perfect; and when there's only two of us, we get along better if one of us thinks the other can do no wrong. ”

“ Gibson gave some instructions to one of the maid-servants as to the watch she was to keep by Mrs. Osborne Hamley, and insisted on Molly's going to bed. When she pleaded the apparent necessity of her staying up, he said,—
'Now, Molly, look how much less trouble the dear old squire would give if he would obey orders. He is only adding to anxiety by indulging himself. One pardons everything to extreme grief, however. But you will have enough to do to occupy all your strength for days to come ”

“ Kirkpatrick, softly lifting one of Molly's curls from off her white temple.
"Papa's hair is growing grey," said Molly.
"Is it? I never see it. I never shall see it. He will always be to me the handsomest of men."
Mr. Gibson was really a very handsome man, and Molly was pleased with the compliment; but she could not help saying,—
"Still he will grow old, and his hair will grow grey. I think he will be just as handsome, but it won't be as a young man."
"Ah! that's just it, love. He'll always be handsome; some people always are. And he is so fond of you, dear." ”

“ You favour your father, and white always sets off a brown complexion.'
'But isn't she beautiful?' persevered Miss Phoebe.
'Well! and if she is, Providence made her, and not she herself. Besides, the dressmaker must go shares. What a fine India muslin it is! it'll have cost a pretty penny!'
Mr. Gibson and Molly drove over to Ashcombe, the night before the wedding, in the one yellow post-chaise that Hollingford possessed. They were to be Mr. Preston's, or, rather, my lord's, guests at the Manor- house. The Manor-house came up to its name, and delighted Molly at first sight. ”

“ I don't believe he ever thought of marrying again," said Molly, recurring to the idea, as one does to that of danger which has passed by, without one's being aware of it.
"No! I don't believe he did, my dear. He looks to me just like a man who would be constant to the memory of his wife. You must not mind what the squire says."
"Ah! you'd better go away, if you're going to teach Miss Gibson such treason as that against the master of the house."
Molly went into the drawing-room with Mrs. Hamley, but her thoughts did not change with the room. ”

“ Gibson's wake. But his face never changed; he bowed to her gravely, and then seemed absorbed in the service. Ten minutes, and all was over. The bride and bridegroom were driving together to the Manor-house, Mr. Preston was walking thither by a short cut, and Molly was again in the carriage with my lord, rubbing his hands and chuckling, and Lady Harriet, trying to be kind and consolatory, when her silence would have been the best comfort.
Molly found out, to her dismay, that the plan was for her to return with Lord Cumnor and Lady Harriet when they went back to the Towers in the evening. ”