She's not a poor woman, such as many people think it's the only charity to be kind to, but she's just as forlorn of woman's care as if she was poor - worse, I dare say.' 'I'll be ready in ten minutes,' said Molly, much touched by the squire's words and manner, never thinking of asking her stepmother's consent, now that she had heard that her father had given his.As she rose to leave the room, Mrs Gibson, who had only half heard what the squire had said, and was a little affronted at the exclusiveness of his confidence, said, - 'My dear, where are you going?' 'Mrs Hamley wants me, and papa says I may go,' said Molly; and almost at the same time the squire replied, - 'My wife is ill, and as she's very fond of your daughter, she begged Mr Gibson to allow her to come to the Hall for a little while, and he kindly said she might, and I'm come to fetch her.' 'Stop a minute, darling,' said Mrs Gibson to Molly - a slight cloud over her countenance, in spite of her caressing word.'I am sure dear papa quite forgot that you were to go out with me to-night, to visit people,' continued she, addressing herself to the squire, 'with whom I am quite unacquainted - and it is very uncertain if Mr Gibson can return in time to go with me - so, you see, I cannot allow Molly to go with you.' 'I shouldn't have thought it would have signified.Brides are always brides, I suppose; and it's their part to be timid; but I shouldn't have thought it - in this case.And my wife sets her heart on things, as sick people do.Well, Molly' (in a louder tone, for these foregoing sentences were spoken sotto voce ), 'we must put it off till to-morrow: and it's our loss, not yours,' he continued, as he saw the reluctance with which she slowly returned to her place.'You'll be as gay as can be to-night, I dare say -- ' 'No, I shall not,' broke in Molly.'I never wanted to go, and now I shall want it less than ever.' 'Hush, my dear,' said Mrs Gibson; and, addressing the squire, she added, 'The visiting here is not all one could wish for so young a girl - no young people, no dances, nothing of gaiety; but it is wrong in you, Molly, to speak against such kind friends of your father's as I understand these Cockerells are.Don't give so bad an impression of yourself to the kind squire.' 'Let her alone! let her alone!' quoth he.'I see what she means.She'd rather come and be in my wife's sick-room than go out for this visit to-night.
Is there no way of getting her off?' 'None whatever,' said Mrs Gibson.'An engagement is an engagement with me; and I consider that she is not only engaged to Mrs Cockerell, but to me - bound to accompany me, in my husband's absence.' The squire was put out; and when he was put out he had a trick of placing his hands on his knees and whistling softly to himself.Molly knew this phase of his displeasure, and only hoped he would confine himself to this wordless expression of annoyance.It was pretty hard work for her to keep the tears out of her eyes; and she endeavoured to think of something else, rather than dwell on regrets and annoyances.She heard Mrs Gibson talking on in a sweet monotone, and wished to attend to what she was saying, but the squire's visible annoyance struck sharper on her mind.At length, after a pause of silence, he started up, and said, - 'Well! it's no use.Poor madam; she won't like it.She'll be disappointed!
But it's but for one evening! - but for one evening! She may come to-morrow, mayn't she? Or will the dissipation of such an evening as she describes, be too much for her?' There was a touch of savage irony in his manner which frightened Mrs Gibson into good behaviour.'She shall be ready at any time you name.I am so sorry: my foolish shyness is in fault, I believe; but still you must acknowledge that an engagement is an engagement.' 'Did I ever say an engagement was an elephant, madam? However, there's no use saying any more about it, or I shall forget my manners.I'm an old tyrant, and she - lying there in bed, poor girl - has always given me my own way.So you'll excuse me, Mrs Gibson, won't you; and let Molly come along with me at ten to-morrow morning?' 'Certainly,' said Mrs Gibson, smiling.But when his back was turned, she said to Molly, - 'Now, my dear, I must never have you exposing me to the ill-manners of such a man again! I don't call him a squire; I call him a boor, or a yeoman at best.You must not go on accepting or rejecting invitations as if you were an independent young lady, Molly.Pay me the respect of a reference to my wishes another time, if you please, my dear!' 'Papa had said I might go,' said Molly, choking a little.'As I am now your mamma your references must be to me, for the future.
But as you are to go you may as well look well dressed.I will lend you my new shawl for this visit, if you like it, and my set of green ribbons.
I am always indulgent when proper respect is paid to me.And in such a house as Hamley Hall, no one can tell who may be coming and going, even if there is sickness in the family.' 'Thank you.But I don't want the shawl and the ribbons, please: there will be nobody there except the family.There never is, I think; and now that she is so ill' - Molly was on the point of crying at the thought of her friend lying ill and lonely, and looking for her arrival.Moreover, she was sadly afraid lest the squire had gone off with the idea that she did not want to come - that she preferred that stupid, stupid party at the Cockerells'.Mrs Gibson, too, was sorry; she had an uncomfortable consciousness of having given way to temper before a stranger, and a stranger, too, whose good opinion she had meant to cultivate: and she was also annoyed at Molly's tearful face.'What can I do for you, to bring you back into good temper?' she said.
'First, you insist upon your knowing Lady Harriet better than I do - I, who have known her for eighteen or nineteen years at least.Then you jump at invitations without ever consulting me, or thinking of how awkward it would be for me to go stumping into a drawing-room all by myself; following my new name, too, which always makes me feel uncomfortable, it is such a sad come-down after Kirkpatrick! And then, when I offer you some of the prettiest things I have got, you say it does not signify how you are dressed.
What can I do to please you, Molly? I, who delight in nothing more than peace in a family, to see you sitting there with despair upon your face?' Molly could stand it no longer; she went upstairs to her own room - her own smart new room, which hardly yet seemed a familiar place; and began to cry so heartily and for so long a time, that she stopped at length for very weariness.She thought of Mrs Hamley wearying for her; of the old Hall whose very quietness might become oppressive to an ailing person;of the trust the squire had had in her that she would come off directly with him.And all this oppressed her much more than the querulousness of her stepmother's words.