Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story - Page 255/572

"I don't exactly know when dog-roses are in flower!"

"Not know, and you a poet? Don't you remember the lines--

It was the time of roses,

We plucked them as we passed?"

"Yes; but that doesn't specify the time of year that is the time

of roses; and I believe my movements are guided more by the lunar

calendar than the floral. You had better take my brother for your

companion; he is practical in his love of flowers, I am only

theoretical."

"Does that fine word 'theoretical' imply that you are ignorant?"

asked Cynthia.

"Of course we shall be happy to see your brother; but why can't we

have you too? I confess to a little timidity in the presence of one

so deep and learned as your brother is from all accounts. Give me a

little charming ignorance, if we must call it by that hard word."

Osborne bowed. It was very pleasant to him to be petted and

flattered, even though he knew all the time that it was only

flattery. It was an agreeable contrast to the home that was so dismal

to him, to come to this house, where the society of two agreeable

girls, and the soothing syrup of their mother's speeches, awaited

him whenever he liked to come. To say nothing of the difference that

struck upon his senses, poetical though he might esteem himself, of a

sitting-room full of flowers, and tokens of women's presence, where

all the chairs were easy, and all the tables well covered with pretty

things, to the great drawing-room at home, where the draperies were

threadbare, and the seats uncomfortable, and no sign of feminine

presence ever now lent a grace to the stiff arrangement of the

furniture. Then the meals, light and well-cooked, suited his taste

and delicate appetite so much better than the rich and heavy viands

prepared by the servants at the Hall. Osborne was becoming a little

afraid of falling into the habit of paying too frequent visits to

the Gibsons (and that, not because he feared the consequences of

his intercourse with the two young ladies; for he never thought of

them excepting as friends;--the fact of his marriage was constantly

present to his mind, and Aimée too securely enthroned in his heart,

for him to remember that he might be looked upon by others in the

light of a possible husband); but the reflection forced itself

upon him occasionally, whether he was not trespassing too often on

hospitality which he had at present no means of returning.

But Mrs. Gibson, in her ignorance of the true state of affairs, was

secretly exultant in the attraction which made him come so often

and lounge away the hours in her house and garden. She had no doubt

that it was Cynthia who drew him thither; and if the latter had been

a little more amenable to reason, her mother would have made more

frequent allusions than she did to the crisis which she thought was

approaching. But she was restrained by the intuitive conviction that

if her daughter became conscious of what was impending, and was made

aware of Mrs. Gibson's cautious and quiet efforts to forward the

catastrophe, the wilful girl would oppose herself to it with all

her skill and power. As it was, Mrs. Gibson trusted that Cynthia's

affections would become engaged before she knew where she was, and

that in that case she would not attempt to frustrate her mother's

delicate scheming, even though she did perceive it. But Cynthia had

come across too many varieties of flirtation, admiration, and even

passionate love, to be for a moment at fault as to the quiet friendly

nature of Osborne's attentions. She received him always as a sister

might a brother. It was different when Roger returned from his

election as Fellow of Trinity. The trembling diffidence, the hardly

suppressed ardour of his manner, made Cynthia understand before long

with what kind of love she had now to deal. She did not put it into

so many words--no, not even in her secret heart--but she recognized

the difference between Roger's relation to her and Osborne's long

before Mrs. Gibson found it out. Molly was, however, the first to

discover the nature of Roger's attention. The first time they saw

him after the ball, it came out to her observant eyes. Cynthia had

not been looking well since that evening; she went slowly about the

house, pale and heavy-eyed; and, fond as she usually was of exercise

and the free fresh air, there was hardly any persuading her now to go

out for a walk. Molly watched this fading with tender anxiety, but

to all her questions as to whether she had felt over-fatigued with

her dancing, whether anything had occurred to annoy her, and all

such inquiries, she replied in languid negatives. Once Molly touched

on Mr. Preston's name, and found that this was a subject on which

Cynthia was raw; now, Cynthia's face lighted up with spirit, and her

whole body showed her ill-repressed agitation, but she only said a

few sharp words, expressive of anything but kindly feeling towards

the gentleman, and then bade Molly never name his name to her again.

Still, the latter could not imagine that he was more than intensely

distasteful to her friend, as well as to herself; he could not be

the cause of Cynthia's present indisposition. But this indisposition

lasted so many days without change or modification, that even Mrs.

Gibson noticed it, and Molly became positively uneasy. Mrs. Gibson

considered Cynthia's quietness and languor as the natural consequence

of "dancing with everybody who asked her" at the ball. Partners whose

names were in the "Red Book" would not have produced half the amount

of fatigue, according to Mrs. Gibson's judgment apparently, and if

Cynthia had been quite well, very probably she would have hit the

blot in her mother's speech with one of her touches of sarcasm.

Then, again, when Cynthia did not rally, Mrs. Gibson grew impatient,

and accused her of being fanciful and lazy; at length, and partly

at Molly's instance, there came an appeal to Mr. Gibson, and a

professional examination of the supposed invalid, which Cynthia hated

more than anything, especially when the verdict was, that there was

nothing very much the matter, only a general lowness of tone, and

depression of health and spirits, which would soon be remedied by

tonics, and meanwhile, she was not to be roused to exertion.