Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story - Page 139/572

"Yes! I'm back again. Bullocks, I find, are not in my line. I

only disappointed my father in not being able to appreciate their

merits, and, I'm afraid, I didn't care to learn. And the smell was

insufferable on such a hot day."

"My dear boy, don't make apologies to me; keep them for your father.

I'm only too glad to have you back. Miss Gibson, this tall fellow is

my son Osborne, as I daresay you have guessed. Osborne--Miss Gibson.

Now, what will you have?"

He looked round the table as he sate down. "Nothing here," said he.

"Isn't there some cold game-pie? I'll ring for that."

Molly was trying to reconcile the ideal with the real. The ideal was

agile, yet powerful, with Greek features and an eagle-eye, capable

of enduring long fasting, and indifferent as to what he ate. The

real was almost effeminate in movement, though not in figure; he had

the Greek features, but his blue eyes had a cold, weary expression

in them. He was dainty in eating, and had anything but a Homeric

appetite. However, Molly's hero was not to eat more than Ivanhoe,

when he was Friar Tuck's guest; and, after all, with a little

alteration, she began to think Mr. Osborne Hamley might turn out a

poetical, if not a chivalrous hero. He was extremely attentive to

his mother, which pleased Molly, and, in return, Mrs. Hamley seemed

charmed with him to such a degree that Molly once or twice fancied

that mother and son would have been happier in her absence. Yet,

again, it struck on the shrewd, if simple girl, that Osborne was

mentally squinting at her in the conversation which was directed to

his mother. There were little turns and 'fioriture' of speech which

Molly could not help feeling were graceful antics of language not

common in the simple daily intercourse between mother and son. But

it was flattering rather than otherwise to perceive that a very fine

young man, who was a poet to boot, should think it worth while to

talk on the tight rope for her benefit. And before the afternoon was

ended, without there having been any direct conversation between

Osborne and Molly, she had reinstated him on his throne in her

imagination; indeed, she had almost felt herself disloyal to her dear

Mrs. Hamley when, in the first hour after her introduction, she had

questioned his claims on his mother's idolatry. His beauty came out

more and more, as he became animated in some discussion with her; and

all his attitudes, if a little studied, were graceful in the extreme.

Before Molly left, the squire and Roger returned from Canonbury.