"Mamma, what do you think Fanny and Mary Grey say?" asked Matilda of her
mother.
"My dear, I wish you would not tease me with what the Greys say. They
say very little that is worth repeating."
"Well, but you must hear this, mamma. Fanny and Mary were walking with
Sophia yesterday, and they met Mrs Hope and Miss Ibbotson in Turn-stile
Lane; and Mrs Hope was crying so, you can't think."
"Indeed! Crying! What, in the middle of the day?"
"Yes; just before dinner. She had her veil down, and she did not want
to stop, evidently, mamma. She--."
"I should wonder if she did," observed Mr Rowland from the other side
of the newspaper he was reading. "If Dr and Mrs Levitt were to come
in the next time you cry, Matilda, you would not want to stay in the
parlour, evidently, I should think. For my part, I never show my face
when I am crying."
"You cry, papa!" cried little Anna. "Do you ever cry?"
"Have you never found me behind the deals, or among the sacks in the
granary, with my finger in my eye?"
"No, papa. Do show us how you look when you cry."
Mr Rowland's face, all dolefulness, emerged from behind the newspaper,
and the children shouted.
"But," said Matilda, observing that her mother's brow began to lower, "I
think it is very odd that Mrs Hope did not stay at home if she wanted
to cry. It is so very odd to go crying about the streets!"
"I dare say Deerbrook is very much obliged to her," said papa. "It will
be something to talk about for a week."
"But what could she be crying for, papa?"
"Suppose you ask her, my dear? Had you not better put on your bonnet,
and go directly to Mr Hope's, and ask, with our compliments, what Mrs
Hope was crying for at four o'clock yesterday afternoon? Of course she
can tell better than anybody else."
"Nonsense, Mr Rowland," observed his lady. "Go, children, it is very
near school-time."
"No, mamma; not by--"
"Go, I insist upon it, Matilda. I will have you do as you are bid. Go,
George: go, Anna.--Now, my love, did I not tell you so, long ago? Do
not you remember my observing to you, how coldly Mr Hope took our
congratulations on his engagement in the summer? I was sure there was
something wrong. They are not happy, depend upon it."
"What a charming discovery that would be!"
"You are very provoking, Mr Rowland! I do believe you try to imitate
Mr Grey's dry way of talking to his wife."
"I thought I had heard you admire that way, my dear."
"For her, yes: it does very well for a woman like her: but I beg you
will not try it upon me, Mr Rowland."
"Well, then, Mrs Rowland, I am going to be as serious as ever I was in
my life, when I warn you how you breathe such a suspicion as that the
Hopes are not happy. Remember you have no evidence whatever about the
matter. When you offered Mr Hope your congratulations, he was feeble
from illness, and probably too much exhausted at the moment to show any
feeling, one way or another. And as for this crying fit of Mrs Hope's,
no one is better able than you, my dear, to tell how many causes there
may be for ladies' tears besides being unhappily married."
"Pray, Mr Rowland, make yourself easy, I beg. Whom do you suppose I
should mention such a thing to?"
"You have already mentioned it to yourself and me, my dear, which is
just two persons too many. Not a word more on the subject, if you
please."
Mrs Rowland saw that this was one of her husband's authority days;--
rare days, when she could not have her own way, and her quiet husband
was really formidable. She buckled on her armour, therefore, forthwith.
That armour was--silence. Mr Rowland was sufficiently aware of the
process now to be gone through, to avoid speaking, when he knew he
should obtain no reply. He finished his newspaper without further
remark, looked out a book from the shelves, half-whistling all the
while, and left the room.
Meantime, the children had gone to the schoolroom, disturbing Miss Young
nearly an hour too soon. Miss Young told them she was not at liberty;
and when she heard that their mamma had sent them away from the
drawing-room, she asked why they could not play as usual. It was so
cold! How did George manage to play? George had not come in with the
rest. If he could play, so could they. The little girls had no doubt
George would present himself soon: they did not know where he had run;
but he would soon have enough of the cold abroad, or of the dullness of
the nursery. In another moment Miss Young was informed of the fact of
Hester's tears of yesterday; and, much as she wanted the time she was
deprived of; she was glad the children had come to her, that this piece
of gossip might be stopped. She went somewhat at length with them into
the subject of tears, showing that it is very hasty to conclude that any
one has been doing wrong, even in the case of a child's weeping; and
much more with regard to grown people. When they had arrived at
wondering whether some poor person had been begging of Mrs Hope, or
whether one of Mr Hope's patients that she cared about was very ill, or
whether anybody had been telling her an affecting story, Miss Young
brought them to see that they ought not to wish to know;--that they
should no more desire to read Mrs Hope's thoughts than to look over her
shoulder while she was writing a letter. She was just telling them a
story of a friend of hers who called on an old gentleman, and found him
in very low spirits, with his eyes all red and swollen; and how her
friend did not know whether to take any notice; and how the truth came
out,--that the old gentleman had been reading a touching story:--she was
just coming to the end of this anecdote, when the door opened and
Margaret entered, holding George by the hand. Margaret looked rather
grave, and said--
"I thought I had better come to you first, Maria, for an explanation
which you may be able to give. Do you know who sent little George with
a message to my sister just now? I concluded you did not. George has
been calling at my brother's door, with his papa's and mamma's
compliments, and a request to know what Mrs Hope was crying for
yesterday, at four o'clock."
Maria covered her face with her hands, with as much shame as if she had
been in fault, while "Oh, George!" was reproachfully uttered by the
little girls.
"Matilda," said Miss Young, "I trust you to go straight to your papa,
without saying a word of this to any one else, and to ask him to come
here this moment. I trust you, my dear."
Matilda discharged her trust. She peeped into the drawing-room, and
popped out again without speaking, when she saw papa was no longer
there. She found him in the office, and brought him, without giving any
hint of what had happened. He was full of concern, of course; said that
he could not blame George, though he was certainly much surprised; that
it would be a lesson to him not to use irony with children, since even
the broadest might be thus misunderstood; and that a little family scene
had thus been laid open, which he should hardly regret if it duly
impressed his children with the folly and unkindness of village gossip.
He declared he could not be satisfied without apologising,--well, then,
without explaining, to Mrs Hope how it had happened; and he would do it
through the medium of Mr Hope; for, to say the truth, he was ashamed to
face Mrs Hope till his peace was made. Margaret laughed at this, and
begged him to go home with her; but he preferred stepping over to Mrs
Enderby's, where Mr Hope had just been seen to enter. Mr Rowland
concluded by saying, that he should accept it as a favour in Miss
Ibbotson, as well as Miss Young, if she would steadily refuse to gratify
any impertinent curiosity shown by his children, in whatever direction
it might show itself. They were exposed to great danger from example in
Deerbrook, like most children brought up in small villages, he supposed:
and he owned he dreaded the idea of his children growing up the scourges
to society that he considered foolish and malignant gossips to be.
"Do sit down, Margaret," said Maria. "I shall feel uncomfortable when
you are gone, if you do not stay a minute to turn our thoughts to
something pleasanter than this terrible mistake of poor George's."
"I cannot stay now, however," said Margaret, smiling. "You know I must
go and turn my sister's thoughts to something pleasanter. There she is,
sitting at home, waiting to know how all this has happened."
"Whether she has not been insulted? You are right, Margaret. Make
haste back to her, and beg her pardon for us all. Shall she not,
children, if she will be so kind?"
Margaret was overwhelmed with the petitions for pardon she had to carry;
and not one of the children asked what Mrs Hope had been crying for,
after all.
Hester looked up anxiously as Margaret entered the drawing-room at home.
"It is all a trifle," said Margaret, gaily.
"How can it be a trifle?"
"The little Greys told what they saw yesterday, of course; and one of
the little Rowlands wondered what was the reason;--(children can never
understand what grown people, who have no lessons to learn, can cry for,
you know); and Mr Rowland, to make their gossip ridiculous to
themselves, told them they had better come and ask; and poor George, who
cannot take a joke, came without any one knowing where he was gone.
They were all in great consternation when I told them, and there is an
ample apology coming to you through Edward. That is the whole story,
except that Mr Rowland would have come himself to you, instead of going
to your husband, but that he was ashamed of his joke. So there is an
end of that silly matter, unless it be to make George always ask
henceforth whether people are in joke or in earnest."
"I think Mr Rowland might have come to me," observed Hester. "Are you
sure Mrs Rowland had nothing to do with it?"
"I neither saw her nor heard of her. You had better not go out to-day,
it is so like snow. I shall be back soon; but as I have my bonnet on, I
shall go and see Johnny Rye and his mother. Can I do anything for you?"
"Oh, my snow-boots! But I would not have you go to Mrs Howell's while
she is in such a mood as she was in yesterday. I would not go myself."
"Oh! I will go. I am not afraid of Mrs Howell; and we shall have to
encounter her again, sooner or later. I will buy something, and then
see what my diplomacy will effect about the boots."
Mr Hope presently came in, and found his wife prepared for the apology
he brought from Mr Rowland. But it was obvious that Hope's mind was
far more occupied with something else.
"Where is Margaret?"
"She is gone out to Widow Rye's, and to Mrs Howell's."
"No matter where, as long as she is out. I want to consult you about
something." And he drew a chair to the fire, and told that he had
visited Mrs Enderby, whom he found very poorly, apparently from
agitation of spirits. She had shed a few tears on reporting her health,
and had dropped something which he could not understand, about this
being almost the last time she should be able to speak freely to him.
Hester anxiously hoped that the good old lady was not really going to
die. There was no near probability of this, her husband assured her.
He thought Mrs Enderby referred to some other change than dying; but
what, she did not explain. She had gone on talking in rather an excited
way, and at last hinted that she supposed she should not see her son for
some time, as Mrs Rowland had intimated that he was fully occupied with
the young lady he was going to be married to. Mrs Enderby plainly said
that she had not heard this from Philip himself; but she seemed to
entertain no doubt of the truth of the information she had received.
She appeared to be struggling to be glad at the news; but it was clear
that the uppermost feeling was disappointment at having no immediate
prospect of seeing her son.
"Now, what are we to think and do?" said Hope.
"This agrees with what Mrs Rowland told me in Dingleford woods, six
months ago," said Hester; "and I suppose what she then said may have
been true all this time."
"How does that agree with his conduct to Margaret? Or am I mistaken in
what I have told you I thought about that? Seriously--very seriously--
how do you suppose the case stands with Margaret?"
"I know no more than you. I think he went further than he ought, if he
was thinking of another; and, but for his conduct since, I should have
quite concluded, from some observations that I made, that he was
attached to Margaret."
"And she--?"
"And she certainly likes him very well; but I can hardly fancy her
happiness at stake. I have thought her spirit rather flat of late."
Hope sighed deeply.
"Ah! you may well sigh," said Hester, sighing herself, and sinking back
in her chair. "You know what I am going to say. I thought I might be
the cause of her being less gay than she should be. I have disappointed
her expectations, I know. But let us talk only of her."
"Yes: let us talk only of her, till we have settled what is our duty to
her. Ought we to tell her of this or not?"