Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story - Page 426/572

"Well!" said he, coming in cheerfully, and rubbing his cold hands as

he went straight to the fire, "and what is the matter with us? It's

Phoebe, I suppose? I hope none of those old spasms? But, after all,

a dose or two will set that to rights."

"Oh! Mr. Gibson, I wish it was Phoebe, or me either!" said Miss

Browning, trembling more and more.

He sate down by her patiently, when he saw her agitation, and took

her hand in a kind, friendly manner.

"Don't hurry yourself,--take your time. I daresay it's not so bad as

you fancy; but we'll see about it. There's a great deal of help in

the world, much as we abuse it."

"Mr. Gibson," said she, "it's your Molly I'm so grieved about. It's

out now, and God help us both, and the poor child too, for I'm sure

she's been led astray, and not gone wrong by her own free will!"

"Molly!" said he, fighting against her words. "What's my little Molly

been doing or saying?"

"Oh! Mr. Gibson, I don't know how to tell you. I never would have

named it, if I had not been convinced, sorely, sorely against my

will."

"At any rate, you can let me hear what you've heard," said he,

putting his elbow on the table, and screening his eyes with his hand.

"Not that I'm a bit afraid of anything you can hear about my girl,"

continued he. "Only in this little nest of gossip, it's as well to

know what people are talking about."

"They say--oh! how shall I tell you?"

"Go on, can't you?" said he, removing his hand from his blazing eyes.

"I'm not going to believe it, so don't be afraid!"

"But I fear you must believe it. I would not if I could help it.

She's been carrying on a clandestine correspondence with Mr.

Preston!--"

"Mr. Preston!" exclaimed he.

"And meeting him at all sorts of unseemly places and hours, out of

doors,--in the dark,--fainting away in his--his arms, if I must speak

out. All the town is talking of it." Mr. Gibson's hand was over his

eyes again, and he made no sign; so Miss Browning went on, adding

touch to touch. "Mr. Sheepshanks saw them together. They have

exchanged notes in Grinstead's shop; she ran after him there."

"Be quiet, can't you?" said Mr. Gibson, taking his hand away, and

showing his grim set face. "I've heard enough. Don't go on. I said

I shouldn't believe it, and I don't. I suppose I must thank you for

telling me; but I can't yet."