Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story - Page 29/572

Molly grew up among these quiet people in calm monotony of life,

without any greater event than that which has been recorded--the

being left behind at the Towers--until she was nearly seventeen. She

had become a visitor at the school, but she had never gone again to

the annual festival at the great house; it was easy to find some

excuse for keeping away, and the recollection of that day was not

a pleasant one on the whole, though she often thought how much she

should like to see the gardens again.

Lady Agnes was married; there was only Lady Harriet remaining at

home; Lord Hollingford, the eldest son, had lost his wife, and was

a good deal more at the Towers since he had become a widower. He

was a tall ungainly man, considered to be as proud as his mother,

the countess; but, in fact, he was only shy, and slow at making

commonplace speeches. He did not know what to say to people whose

daily habits and interests were not the same as his; he would have

been very thankful for a handbook of small-talk, and would have

learnt off his sentences with good-humoured diligence. He often

envied the fluency of his garrulous father, who delighted in talking

to everybody, and was perfectly unconscious of the incoherence of his

conversation. But, owing to his constitutional reserve and shyness,

Lord Hollingford was not a popular man although his kindness of

heart was very great, his simplicity of character extreme, and his

scientific acquirements considerable enough to entitle him to much

reputation in the European republic of learned men. In this respect

Hollingford was proud of him. The inhabitants knew that the great,

grave, clumsy heir to its fealty was highly esteemed for his wisdom;

and that he had made one or two discoveries, though in what direction

they were not quite sure. But it was safe to point him out to

strangers visiting the little town, as "That's Lord Hollingford--the

famous Lord Hollingford, you know; you must have heard of him, he is

so scientific." If the strangers knew his name, they also knew his

claims to fame; if they did not, ten to one but they would make as

if they did, and so conceal not only their own ignorance, but that

of their companions, as to the exact nature of the sources of his

reputation.

He was left a widower with two or three boys. They were at a public

school; so that their companionship could make the house in which

he had passed his married life but little of a home to him, and he

consequently spent much of his time at the Towers; where his mother

was proud of him, and his father very fond, but ever so little afraid

of him. His friends were always welcomed by Lord and Lady Cumnor; the

former, indeed, was in the habit of welcoming everybody everywhere;

but it was a proof of Lady Cumnor's real affection for her

distinguished son, that she allowed him to ask what she called "all

sorts of people" to the Towers. "All sorts of people" meant really

those who were distinguished for science and learning, without regard

to rank: and it must be confessed, without much regard to polished

manners likewise.