Part 53 (1/2)
”Very forward indeed!” continued Mrs. Gibson, taking no further notice of the interruption, except to strengthen the words to which Molly's little speech had been intended as a correction.
”I think this time I must secure her ladys.h.i.+p from the chances of such an intrusion, by taking care that you are out of the house, Molly. You had better go to the Holly Farm, and speak about those damsons I ordered, and which have never been sent.”
”I'll go,” said Cynthia. ”It's far too long a walk for Molly; she's had a bad cold, and isn't as strong as she was a fortnight ago. I delight in long walks. If you want Molly out of the way, mamma, send her to the Miss Brownings'--they are always glad to see her.”
”I never said I wanted Molly out of the way, Cynthia,” replied Mrs.
Gibson. ”You always put things in such an exaggerated--I should almost say, so coa.r.s.e a manner. I am sure, Molly, my love, you could never have so misunderstood me; it is only on Lady Harriet's account.”
”I don't think I can walk as far as the Holly Farm; papa would take the message; Cynthia need not go.”
”Well! I'm the last person in the world to tax any one's strength; I'd sooner never see damson preserve again. Suppose you do go and see Miss Browning; you can pay her a nice long call, you know she likes that; and ask after Miss Phoebe's cold from me, you know. They were friends of your mother's, my dear, and I would not have you break off old friends.h.i.+ps for the world. 'Constancy above everything' is my motto, as you know, and the memory of the dead ought always to be cherished.”
”Now, mamma, where am I to go?” asked Cynthia. ”Though Lady Harriet doesn't care for me as much as she does for Molly--indeed, quite the contrary I should say--yet she might ask after me, and I had better be safely out of the way.”
”True!” said Mrs. Gibson, meditatively, yet unconscious of any satire in Cynthia's speech.
”She is much less likely to ask for you, my dear: I almost think you might remain in the house, or you might go to the Holly Farm; I really do want the damsons; or you might stay here in the dining-room, you know, so as to be ready to arrange lunch prettily, if she does take a fancy to stay for it. She is very fanciful, is dear Lady Harriet! I would not like her to think we made any difference in our meals because she stayed. 'Simple elegance,' as I tell her, 'always is what we aim at.' But still you could put out the best service, and arrange some flowers, and ask cook what there is for dinner that she could send us for lunch, and make it all look pretty, and impromptu, and natural. I think you had better stay at home, Cynthia, and then you could fetch Molly from Miss Brownings' in the afternoon, you know, and you two could take a walk together.”
”After Lady Harriet was fairly gone! I understand, mamma. Off with you, Molly. Make haste, or Lady Harriet may come and ask for you as well as mamma. I'll take care and forget where you are going to, so that no one shall learn from me where you are, and I'll answer for mamma's loss of memory.”
”Child! what nonsense you talk; you quite confuse me with being so silly,” said Mrs. Gibson, fluttered and annoyed as she usually was with the Lilliputian darts Cynthia flung at her. She had recourse to her accustomed f.e.c.kless piece of retaliation--bestowing some favour on Molly; and this did not hurt Cynthia one whit.
”Molly, darling, there's a very cold wind, though it looks so fine.
You had better put on my Indian shawl; and it will look so pretty, too, on your grey gown--scarlet and grey; it's not everybody I would lend it to, but you're so careful.”
”Thank you,” said Molly: and she left Mrs. Gibson in careless uncertainty as to whether her offer would be accepted or not.
Lady Harriet was sorry to miss Molly, as she was fond of the girl; but as she perfectly agreed with Mrs. Gibson's truism about ”constancy” and ”old friends,” she saw no occasion for saying any more about the affair, but sat down in a little low chair with her feet on the fender. This said fender was made of bright, bright steel, and was strictly tabooed to all household and plebeian feet; indeed the position, if they a.s.sumed it, was considered low-bred and vulgar.
”That's right, dear Lady Harriet! you can't think what a pleasure it is to me to welcome you at my own fireside, into my humble home.”
”Humble! now, Clare, that's a little bit of nonsense, begging your pardon. I don't call this pretty little drawing-room a bit of a 'humble home.' It's as full of comforts, and of pretty things too, as any room of its size can be.”
”Ah! how small you must feel it! even I had to reconcile myself to it at first.”
”Well! perhaps your schoolroom was larger, but remember how bare it was, how empty of anything but deal tables, and forms, and mats. Oh, indeed, Clare, I quite agree with mamma, who always says you have done very well for yourself; and Mr. Gibson too! What an agreeable, well-informed man!”
”Yes, he is,” said his wife, slowly, as if she did not like to relinquish her role of a victim to circ.u.mstances quite immediately.
”He is very agreeable, very; only we see so little of him; and of course he comes home tired and hungry, and not inclined to talk to his own family, and apt to go to sleep.”
”Come, come!” said Lady Harriet, ”I'm going to have my turn now.
We've had the complaint of a doctor's wife, now hear the moans of a peer's daughter. Our house is so overrun with visitors! and literally to-day I have come to you for a little solitude.”
”Solitude!” exclaimed Mrs. Gibson. ”Would you rather be alone?”
slightly aggrieved.
”No, you dear silly woman; my solitude requires a listener, to whom I may say, 'How sweet is solitude!' But I am tired of the responsibility of entertaining. Papa is so open-hearted, he asks every friend he meets with to come and pay us a visit. Mamma is really a great invalid, but she does not choose to give up her reputation for good health, having always considered illness a want of self-control. So she gets wearied and worried by a crowd of people who are all of them open-mouthed for amus.e.m.e.nt of some kind; just like a brood of fledglings in a nest; so I have to be parent-bird, and pop morsels into their yellow leathery bills, to find them swallowed down before I can think of where to find the next. Oh, it's 'entertaining' in the largest, literalist, dreariest sense of the word. So I have told a few lies this morning, and come off here for quietness and the comfort of complaining!”