Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story
Page 363That was the way in which Mrs. Gibson first broached her intention
of accompanying Cynthia up to London for a few days' visit. She had
a trick of producing the first sketch of any new plan before an
outsider to the family circle; so that the first emotions of others,
if they disapproved of her projects, had to be repressed, until the
idea had become familiar to them. To Molly it seemed too charming
a proposal ever to come to pass. She had never allowed herself to
recognize the restraint she was under in her stepmother's presence;
but all at once she found it out when her heart danced at the idea
of three whole days--for that it would be at the least--of perfect
freedom of intercourse with her father; of old times come back again;
correctness of attendance.
"We'll have bread-and-cheese for dinner, and eat it on our knees;
we'll make up for having had to eat sloppy puddings with a fork
instead of a spoon all this time, by putting our knives in our mouths
till we cut ourselves. Papa shall pour his tea into his saucer if
he's in a hurry; and if I'm thirsty, I'll take the slop-basin. And
oh, if I could but get, buy, borrow, or steal any kind of an old
horse; my grey skirt isn't new, but it will do;--that would be too
delightful! After all, I think I can be happy again; for months and
months it has seemed as if I had got too old ever to feel pleasure,
So thought Molly. Yet she blushed, as if with guilt, when Cynthia,
reading her thoughts, said to her one day,--
"Molly, you're very glad to get rid of us, are not you?"
"Not of you, Cynthia; at least, I don't think I am. Only, if you but
knew how I love papa, and how I used to see a great deal more of him
than I ever do now--"
"Ah! I often think what interlopers we must seem, and are in fact--"
"I don't feel you as such. You, at any rate, have been a new delight
to me--a sister; and I never knew how charming such a relationship
could be."
"She is papa's wife," said Molly, quietly. "I don't mean to say I'm
not often very sorry to feel I'm no longer first with him; but it
was"--the violent colour flushed into her face till even her eyes
burnt, and she suddenly found herself on the point of crying; the
weeping ash-tree, the misery, the slow dropping comfort, and the
comforter came all so vividly before her--"it was Roger!"--she went
on looking up at Cynthia, as she overcame her slight hesitation at
mentioning his name--"Roger, who told me how I ought to take papa's
marriage, when I was first startled and grieved at the news. Oh,
Cynthia, what a great thing it is to be loved by him!"