Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story - Page 158/572

If Molly thought that peace dwelt perpetually at Hamley Hall

she was sorely mistaken. Something was out of tune in the whole

establishment; and, for a very unusual thing, the common irritation

seemed to have produced a common bond. All the servants were old in

their places, and were told by some one of the family, or gathered,

from the unheeded conversation carried on before them, everything

that affected master or mistress or either of the young gentlemen.

Any one of them could have told Molly that the grievance which lay at

the root of everything, was the amount of the bills run up by Osborne

at Cambridge, and which, now that all chance of his obtaining a

fellowship was over, came pouring down upon the Squire. But Molly,

confident of being told by Mrs. Hamley herself anything which she

wished her to hear, encouraged no confidences from any one else.

She was struck with the change in "madam's" look as soon as she

caught sight of her in the darkened room, lying on the sofa in her

dressing-room, all dressed in white, which almost rivalled the white

wanness of her face. The Squire ushered Molly in with,--

"Here she is at last!" and Molly had scarcely imagined that he had so

much variety in the tones of his voice--the beginning of the sentence

was spoken in a loud congratulatory manner, while the last words

were scarcely audible. He had seen the death-like pallor on his

wife's face; not a new sight, and one which had been presented to him

gradually enough, but which was now always giving him a fresh shock.

It was a lovely tranquil winter's day; every branch and every twig

on the trees and shrubs was glittering with drops of the sun-melted

hoar-frost; a robin was perched on a holly-bush, piping cheerily; but

the blinds were down, and out of Mrs. Hamley's windows nothing of all

this was to be seen. There was even a large screen placed between

her and the wood-fire, to keep off that cheerful blaze. Mrs. Hamley

stretched out one hand to Molly, and held hers firm; with the other

she shaded her eyes.

"She is not so well this morning," said the Squire, shaking his head.

"But never fear, my dear one; here's the doctor's daughter, nearly

as good as the doctor himself. Have you had your medicine? Your

beef-tea?" he continued, going about on heavy tiptoe and peeping into

every empty cup and glass. Then he returned to the sofa; looked at

her for a minute or two, and then softly kissed her, and told Molly

he would leave her in charge.