"I don't want your thanks," said Miss Browning, almost crying. "I
thought you ought to know; for though you're married again, I can't
forget you were dear Mary's husband once upon a time; and Molly's her
child."
"I'd rather not speak any more about it just at present," said he,
not at all replying to Miss Browning's last speech. "I may not
control myself as I ought. I only wish I could meet Preston, and
horsewhip him within an inch of his life. I wish I'd the doctoring
of these slanderous gossips. I'd make their tongues lie still for a
while. My little girl! What harm has she done them all, that they
should go and foul her fair name?"
"Indeed, Mr. Gibson, I'm afraid it's all true. I would not have sent
for you if I hadn't examined into it. Do ascertain the truth before
you do anything violent, such as horsewhipping or poisoning."
With all the _inconséquence_ of a man in a passion, Mr. Gibson
laughed out, "What have I said about horsewhipping or poisoning?
Do you think I'd have Molly's name dragged about the streets in
connection with any act of violence on my part? Let the report die
away as it arose. Time will prove its falsehood."
"But I don't think it will, and that's the pity of it," said Miss
Browning. "You must do something, but I don't know what."
"I shall go home and ask Molly herself what's the meaning of it all;
that's all I shall do. It's too ridiculous--knowing Molly as I do,
it's perfectly ridiculous." He got up and walked about the room
with hasty steps, laughing short unnatural laughs from time to time.
"Really what will they say next? 'Satan finds some mischief still for
idle tongues to do.'"
"Don't talk of Satan, please, in this house. No one knows what may
happen, if he's lightly spoken about," pleaded Miss Browning.
He went on, without noticing her, talking to himself,--"I've a great
mind to leave the place;--and what food for scandal that piece
of folly would give rise to!" Then he was silent for a time; his
hands in his pockets, his eyes on the ground, as he continued his
quarter-deck march. Suddenly he stopped close to Miss Browning's
chair: "I'm thoroughly ungrateful to you, for as true a mark of
friendship as you've ever shown to me. True or false, it was right
I should know the wretched scandal that was being circulated; and it
couldn't have been pleasant for you to tell it me. Thank you from the
bottom of my heart."