“I agree with you,” said Mrs. Gibson, replying to him before either Cynthia or Molly could speak, though he addressed his words to them. “You have been very kind in bringing us flowers so long; but, now our own are out, we need not trouble you any more.”
He looked at her, with a little surprise clouding his honest face; it was perhaps more at the tone than the words. Mrs. Gibson, however, had been bold enough to strike the first blow, and she determined to go on, as opportunity offered. Molly would perhaps have been more pained, if she had not seen Cynthia’s colour rise. She waited for her to speak, if need were; for she knew that Roger’s defence, if defence were required, might be safely entrusted to Cynthia’s ready wit.
He put out his hand for the shattered cluster of roses that lay in Cynthia’s lap.
“At any rate,” said he, “my trouble—if Mrs. Gibson considers it has been a trouble to me—will be overpaid, if I may have this.”
“Old lamps for new,” said Cynthia, smiling as she gave it to him. “I wish one could always buy nosegays such as you have brought us, as cheaply.”
“You forget the waste of time that, I think, we must reckon as part of the payment,” said her mother. “Really, Mr. Hamley, we must learn to shut our doors on you if you come so often, and at such early hours! I settle myself to my own employment regularly after breakfast till lunch-time; and it is my wish to keep Cynthia and Molly to a course of improving reading and study—so desirable for young people of their age, if they are ever to become intelligent, companionable women; but with early visitors it is quite impossible to observe any regularity of habits.”
All this was said in that sweet, false tone which of late had gone through Molly like the scraping of a slate-pencil on a slate. Roger’s face changed. His ruddy colour grew paler for a moment, and he looked grave and not pleased. In another moment, the wonted frankness of expression returned. Why should not he, he asked himself, believe her? It was early to call; it did interrupt regular occupation. So he spoke, and said—
“I believe I have been very thoughtless—I’ll not come so early again; but I had some excuse to-day: my brother told me you had made a plan for going to see Hurstwood when the roses were out, and they are earlier than usual this year—I’ve been round to see. He spoke of a long day there, going before lunch”——
“The plan was made with Mr. Osborne Hamley. I could not think of going without him!” said Mrs. Gibson coldly.
“I had a letter from him this morning, in which he named your wish, and he says he fears he cannot be at home till they are out of flower. I daresay they are not much to see in reality; but the day is so lovely I thought that the plan of going to Hurstwood would be a charming excuse for being out of doors.”
“Thank you! How kind you are! and so good, too, in sacrificing your natural desire to be with your father as much as possible.”
“I’m glad to say my father is so much better than he was in the winter, that he spends much of his time out of doors in his fields. He has been accustomed to go about alone, and I—we think that as great a return to his former habits as he can be induced to make is the best for him.”
“And when do you return to Cambridge?”
There was some hesitation in Roger’s manner as he replied—
“It is uncertain. You probably know that I am a Fellow of Trinity now. I hardly yet know what my future plans may be; I am thinking of going up to London soon.”