When Mr. Gibson returned to Hollingford, he found an accumulation of
business waiting for him, and he was much inclined to complain of the
consequences of the two days' comparative holiday, which had resulted
in over-work for the week to come. He had hardly time to speak to
his family, he had so immediately to rush off to pressing cases of
illness. But Molly managed to arrest him in the hall, standing there
with his great coat held out ready for him to put on, but whispering
as she did so--
"Papa! Mr. Osborne Hamley was here to see you yesterday. He looks
very ill, and he's evidently frightened about himself."
Mr. Gibson faced about, and looked at her for a moment; but all he
said was--
"I'll go and see him; don't tell your mother where I'm gone: you've
not mentioned this to her, I hope?"
"No," said Molly, for she had only told Mrs. Gibson of Osborne's
call, not of the occasion for it.
"Don't say anything about it; there's no need. Now I think of it, I
can't possibly go to-day,--but I will go."
Something in her father's manner disheartened Molly, who had
persuaded herself that Osborne's evident illness was partly
"nervous," by which she meant imaginary. She had dwelt upon his looks
of enjoyment at Miss Phoebe's perplexity, and thought that no one
really believing himself to be in danger could have given the merry
glances which he had done; but after seeing the seriousness of her
father's face, she recurred to the shock she had experienced on first
seeing Osborne's changed appearance. All this time Mrs. Gibson was
busy reading a letter from Cynthia which Mr. Gibson had brought from
London; for every opportunity of private conveyance was seized upon
when postage was so high; and Cynthia had forgotten so many things in
her hurried packing, that she now sent a list of the clothes which
she required. Molly almost wondered that it had not come to her;
but she did not understand the sort of reserve that was springing
up in Cynthia's mind towards her. Cynthia herself struggled with
the feeling, and tried to fight against it by calling herself
"ungrateful;" but the truth was, she believed that she no longer held
her former high place in Molly's estimation and she could not help
turning away from one who knew things to her discredit. She was fully
aware of Molly's prompt decision and willing action, where action
was especially disagreeable, on her behalf; she knew that Molly
would never bring up the past errors and difficulties; but still the
consciousness that the good, straightforward girl had learnt that
Cynthia had been guilty of so much underhand work cooled her regard,
and restrained her willingness of intercourse. Reproach herself with
ingratitude as she would, she could not help feeling glad to be
away from Molly; it was awkward to speak to her as if nothing had
happened; it was awkward to write to her about forgotten ribbons
and laces, when their last conversation had been on such different
subjects, and had called out such vehement expressions of feeling.
So Mrs. Gibson held the list in her hand, and read out the small
fragments of news that were intermixed with notices of Cynthia's
requirements.