He had married a delicate fine London lady; it was one of those
perplexing marriages of which one cannot understand the reasons. Yet
they were very happy, though possibly Mrs. Hamley would not have sunk
into the condition of a chronic invalid, if her husband had cared a
little more for her various tastes, or allowed her the companionship
of those who did. After his marriage he was wont to say he had got
all that was worth having out of the crowd of houses they called
London. It was a compliment to his wife which he repeated until the
year of her death; it charmed her at first, it pleased her up to the
last time of her hearing it; but, for all that, she used sometimes
to wish that he would recognize the fact that there might still be
something worth hearing and seeing in the great city. But he never
went there again, and though he did not prohibit her going, yet he
showed so little sympathy with her when she came back full of what
she had done on her visit that she ceased caring to go. Not but what
he was kind and willing in giving his consent, and in furnishing her
amply with money. "There, there, my little woman, take that! Dress
yourself up as fine as any on 'em, and buy what you like, for the
credit of Hamley of Hamley; and go to the park and the play, and show
off with the best on 'em. I shall be glad to see thee back again, I
know; but have thy fling while thou'rt about it." Then when she came
back it was, "Well, well, it has pleased thee, I suppose, so that's
all right. But the very talking about it tires me, I know, and I
can't think how you have stood it all. Come out and see how pretty
the flowers are looking in the south garden. I've made them sow all
the seeds you like; and I went over to Hollingford nursery to buy the
cuttings of the plants you admired last year. A breath of fresh air
will clear my brain after listening to all this talk about the whirl
of London, which is like to have turned me giddy."
Mrs. Hamley was a great reader, and had considerable literary taste.
She was gentle and sentimental; tender and good. She gave up her
visits to London; she gave up her sociable pleasure in the company
of her fellows in education and position. Her husband, owing to the
deficiencies of his early years, disliked associating with those
to whom he ought to have been an equal; he was too proud to mingle
with his inferiors. He loved his wife all the more dearly for her
sacrifices for him; but, deprived of all her strong interests, she
sank into ill-health; nothing definite; only she never was well.
Perhaps if she had had a daughter it would have been better for her:
but her two children were boys, and their father, anxious to give
them the advantages of which he himself had suffered the deprivation,
sent the lads very early to a preparatory school. They were to go
on to Rugby and Cambridge; the idea of Oxford was hereditarily
distasteful in the Hamley family. Osborne, the eldest--so called
after his mother's maiden name--was full of taste, and had some
talent. His appearance had all the grace and refinement of his
mother's. He was sweet-tempered and affectionate, almost as
demonstrative as a girl. He did well at school, carrying away many
prizes; and was, in a word, the pride and delight of both father and
mother; the confidential friend of the latter, in default of any
other. Roger was two years younger than Osborne; clumsy and heavily
built, like his father; his face was square, and the expression
grave, and rather immobile. He was good, but dull, his schoolmasters
said. He won no prizes, but brought home a favourable report of his
conduct. When he caressed his mother, she used laughingly to allude
to the fable of the lap-dog and the donkey; so thereafter he left
off all personal demonstration of affection. It was a great question
as to whether he was to follow his brother to college after he
left Rugby. Mrs. Hamley thought it would be rather a throwing
away of money, as he was so little likely to distinguish himself
in intellectual pursuits; anything practical--such as a civil
engineer--would be more the kind of life for him. She thought that
it would be too mortifying for him to go to the same college and
university as his brother, who was sure to distinguish himself--and,
to be repeatedly plucked, to come away wooden-spoon at last. But his
father persevered doggedly, as was his wont, in his intention of
giving both his sons the same education; they should both have the
advantages of which he had been deprived. If Roger did not do well at
Cambridge it would be his own fault. If his father did not send him
thither, some day or other he might be regretting the omission, as
the Squire had done himself for many a year. So Roger followed his
brother Osborne to Trinity, and Mrs. Hamley was again left alone,
after the year of indecision as to Roger's destination, which had
been brought on by her urgency. She had not been able for many years
to walk beyond her garden; the greater part of her life was spent on
a sofa, wheeled to the window in summer, to the fireside in winter.
The room which she inhabited was large and pleasant; four tall
windows looked out upon a lawn dotted over with flower-beds, and
melting away into a small wood, in the centre of which there was a
pond, filled with water-lilies. About this unseen pond in the deep
shade Mrs. Hamley had written many a pretty four-versed poem since
she lay on her sofa, alternately reading and composing verse. She had
a small table by her side on which there were the newest works of
poetry and fiction; a pencil and blotting-book, with loose sheets
of blank paper; a vase of flowers always of her husband's gathering;
winter and summer, she had a sweet fresh nosegay every day. Her maid
brought her a draught of medicine every three hours, with a glass of
clear water and a biscuit; her husband came to her as often as his
love for the open air and his labours out-of-doors permitted; but
the event of her day, when her boys were absent, was Mr. Gibson's
frequent professional visits.