"I'm not going to take offence," said Mr. Gibson, "but let us
understand each other clearly. If you don't want your sons to come
as much to my house as they do, tell them so yourself. I like the
lads, and am glad to see them; but if they do come, you must take the
consequences, whatever they are, and not blame me, or them either,
for what may happen from the frequent intercourse between two young
men and two young women; and what is more, though, as I said, I see
nothing whatever of the kind you fear at present, and have promised
to tell you of the first symptoms I do see, yet farther than that
I won't go. If there's an attachment at any future time, I won't
interfere."
"I shouldn't so much mind if Roger fell in love with your Molly. He
can fight for himself, you see, and she's an uncommon nice girl. My
poor wife was so fond of her," answered the Squire. "It's Osborne and
the estate I'm thinking of!"
"Well, then, tell him not to come near us. I shall be sorry, but you
will be safe."
"I'll think about it; but he's difficult to manage. I've always to
get my blood well up before I can speak my mind to him."
Mr. Gibson was leaving the room, but at these words he turned and
laid his hand on the Squire's arm.
"Take my advice, Squire. As I said, there's no harm done as yet, as
far as I know. Prevention is better than cure. Speak out, but speak
gently to Osborne, and do it at once. I shall understand how it is if
he doesn't show his face for some months in my house. If you speak
gently to him, he'll take the advice as from a friend. If he can
assure you there's no danger, of course he'll come just as usual,
when he likes."
It was all very fine giving the Squire this good advice; but as
Osborne had already formed the very kind of marriage his father most
deprecated, it did not act quite as well as Mr. Gibson had hoped. The
Squire began the conversation with unusual self-control; but he grew
irritated when Osborne denied his father's right to interfere in any
marriage he might contemplate; denied it with a certain degree of
doggedness and weariness of the subject that drove the Squire into
one of his passions; and although, on after reflection, he remembered
that he had his son's promise and solemn word not to think of either
Cynthia or Molly for his wife, yet the father and son had passed
through one of those altercations which help to estrange men for
life. Each had said bitter things to the other; and, if the brotherly
affection had not been so true between Osborne and Roger, they
too might have become alienated, in consequence of the Squire's
exaggerated and injudicious comparison of their characters and deeds.
But as Roger in his boyhood had loved Osborne too well to be jealous
of the praise and love which the eldest son, the beautiful brilliant
lad, had received, to the disparagement of his own plain awkwardness
and slowness, so now Osborne strove against any feeling of envy or
jealousy with all his might; but his efforts were conscious, Roger's
had been the simple consequence of affection, and the end to poor
Osborne was that he became moody and depressed in mind and body; but
both father and son concealed their feelings in Roger's presence.
When he came home just before sailing, busy and happy, the Squire
caught his infectious energy, and Osborne looked up and was cheerful.