Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story - Page 458/572

"What is it, Molly? Why, how white you look, child!"

"Where's papa?"

"Gone out. What's the matter?"

"Where?"

"How should I know? I was asleep; Jenny came upstairs on her way to

the bedrooms; she's a girl who never keeps to her work and Maria

takes advantage of her."

"Jenny, Jenny!" cried Molly, frantic at the delay.

"Don't shout, dear,--ring the bell. What can be the matter?"

"Oh, Jenny!" said Molly, half-way up the stairs to meet her, "who

wanted papa?"

Cynthia came to join the group; she too had been looking for traces

or tidings of Mr. Gibson.

"What is the matter?" said Mrs. Gibson. "Can nobody speak and answer

a question?"

"Osborne Hamley is dead!" said Cynthia, gravely.

"Dead! Osborne! Poor fellow! I knew it would be so, though,--I was

sure of it. But Mr. Gibson can do nothing if he's dead. Poor young

man! I wonder where Roger is now? He ought to come home."

Jenny had been blamed for coming into the drawing-room instead

of Maria, whose place it was, and so had lost the few wits she

had. To Molly's hurried questions her replies had been entirely

unsatisfactory. A man had come to the back door--she could not

see who it was--she had not asked his name: he wanted to speak to

master,--master had seemed in a hurry, and only stopped to get his

hat.

"He will not be long away," thought Molly, "or he would have left

word where he was going. But oh! the poor father all alone!" And then

a thought came into her head, which she acted upon straight. "Go to

James, tell him to put the side-saddle I had in November on Nora

Creina. Don't cry, Jenny. There's no time for that. No one is angry

with you. Run!"

So down into the cluster of collected women Molly came, equipped in

her jacket and skirt; quick determination in her eyes; controlled

quivering about the corners of her mouth.

"Why, what in the world," said Mrs. Gibson--"Molly, what are you

thinking about?" But Cynthia had understood it at a glance, and was

arranging Molly's hastily assumed dress, as she passed along.

"I am going. I must go. I cannot bear to think of him alone. When

papa comes back he is sure to go to Hamley, and if I am not wanted, I

can come back with him." She heard Mrs. Gibson's voice following her

in remonstrance, but she did not stay for words. She had to wait in

the stable-yard, and she wondered how the messenger could bear to eat

and drink the food and beer brought out to him by the servants. Her

coming out had evidently interrupted the eager talk,--the questions

and answers passing sharp to and fro; but she caught the words, "all

amongst the tangled grass," and "the Squire would let none on us

touch him: he took him up as if he was a baby; he had to rest many

a time, and once he sate him down on the ground; but still he kept

him in his arms; but we thought we should ne'er have gotten him up

again--him and the body."