Still, he did not allow himself to repine over the step he had taken; he wilfully shut his eyes and waxed up his ears to many small things that he knew would have irritated him if he had attended to them; and, in his solitary rides, he forced himself to dwell on the positive advantages that had accrued to him and his through his marriage.He had obtained an unexceptionable chaperone, if not a tender mother, for his little girl; a skilful manager of his formerly disorderly household; a woman who was graceful and pleasant to look at for the head of his table.Moreover, Cynthia reckoned for something in the favourable side of the balance.She was a capital companion for Molly; and the two were evidently very fond of each other.The feminine companionship of the mother and daughter was agreeable to him as well as to his child, - when Mrs Gibson was moderately sensible and not over-sentimental, he mentally added; and then he checked himself, for he would not allow himself to become more aware of her faults and foibles by defining them.
At any rate, she was harmless, and wonderfully just to Molly for a stepmother.
She piqued herself upon this indeed, and would often call attention to the fact of her being unlike other women in this respect.Just then sudden tears came into Mr Gibson's eyes, as he remembered how quiet and undemonstrative his little Molly had become in her general behaviour to him; but how once or twice, when they had met upon the stairs, or were otherwise unwitnessed, she had caught him and kissed him - hand or cheek - in a sad passionateness of affection.But in a moment he began to whistle an old Scotch air he had heard in his childhood, and which had never recurred to his memory since; and five minutes afterwards he was too busily treating a case of white swelling in the knee of a little boy, and thinking how to relieve the poor mother, who went out charring all day, and had to listen to the moans of her child all night, to have any thought for his own cares, which, if they really existed, were of so trifling a nature compared to the hard reality of this hopeless woe.Osborne came home first.He returned, in fact, not long after Roger had gone away; but he was languid and unwell, and, though he did not complain, he felt unequal to any exertion.Thus a week or more elapsed before any of the Gibsons knew that he was at the Hall; and then it was only by chance that they became aware of it.Mr Gibson met him in one of the lanes near Hamley; the acute surgeon noticed the gait of the man as he came near, before he recognized who it was.When he overtook him he said, - 'Why, Osborne, is it you? I thought it was an old man of fifty loitering before me! I didn't know you had come back.' 'Yes,' said Osborne, 'I've been at home nearly ten days.I daresay I ought to have called on your people, for I made a half promise to Mrs Gibson to let her know as soon as I returned; but the fact is, I'm feeling very good-for-nothing, - this air oppresses me; I could hardly breathe in the house, and yet I'm already tired with this short walk.' 'You'd better get home at once; and I'll call and see you as I come back from Rowe's.' 'No, you mustn't, on any account!' said Osborne, hastily; my father is annoyed enough about my going from home, so often, he says, though it was six weeks.He puts down all my languor to my having been away, - he keeps the purse-strings, you know,' he added, with a faint smile, 'and I'm in the unlucky position of a penniless heir, and I've been brought up so -In fact, I must leave home from time to time, and, if my father gets confirmed in this notion of his that my health is worse for my absences, he will stop the supplies altogether.' 'May I ask where you do spend your time when you are not at Hamley Hall?'