‘Phoebe, if ever I hear you say such things again, I’ll turn you out of the house that minute.’
‘I only said what Mrs. Dawes said, and you asked me what it was,’ replied Miss Phoebe, humbly and meekly. ‘Dorothy, you should not have done that.’
‘Never mind whether I should or I shouldn’t. That’s not the matter in hand. What I’ve got to decide is, how to put a stop to all these lies.’
‘But, Dorothy, they are not all lies—if you will call them so; I’m afraid some things are true; though I stuck to their being false when Mrs. Dawes told me of them.’
‘If I go to Mrs. Dawes, and she repeats them to me, I shall slap her face or box her ears, I’m afraid, for I couldn’t stand tales being told of poor Mary’s daughter, as if they were just a stirring piece of news like James Horrock’s pig with two heads,’ said Miss Browning, meditating aloud. ‘That would do harm instead of good. Phoebe, I’m really sorry I boxed your ears, only I should do it again if you said the same things.’ Phoebe sat down by her sister, and took hold of one of her withered hands, and began caressing it, which was her way of accepting her sister’s expression of regret. ‘If I speak to Molly, the child will deny it, if she’s half as good-for-nothing as they say; and if she’s not, she’ll only worry herself to death. No, that won’t do. Mrs. Goodenough—but she’s a donkey; and if I convinced her, she could never convince any one else. No; Mrs Dawes, who told you, shall tell me, and I’ll tie my hands together inside my muff, and bind myself over to keep the peace. And when I’ve heard what is to be heard, I’ll put the matter into Mr. Gibson’s hands. That’s what I’ll do. So it’s no use your saying anything against it, Phoebe, for I shan’t attend to you.’
Miss Browning went to Mrs. Dawes’ and began civilly enough to make inquiries concerning the reports current in Hollingford about Molly and Mr. Preston; and Mrs. Dawes fell into the snare, and told all the real and fictitious circumstances of the story in circulation, quite unaware of the storm that was gathering and ready to fall upon her as soon as she had stopped speaking. But she had not the long habit of reverence for Miss Browning, which would have kept so many Hollingford ladies from justifying themselves if she found fault. Mrs. Dawes stood up for herself and her own veracity, bringing out fresh scandal, which she said she did not believe, but that many did; and adducing so much evidence as to the truth of what she had said and did believe, that Miss Browning was almost quelled, and sat silent and miserable at the end of Mrs. Dawes’ justification of herself.
‘Well!’ she said at length, rising up from her chair as she spoke, ‘I’m very sorry I’ve lived till this day; it’s a blow to me just as if I had heard of such goings-on in my own flesh and blood. I suppose I ought to apologize to you, Mrs. Dawes, for what I said; but I’ve no heart to do it to-day. I ought not to have spoken as I did; but that’s nothing to this affair, you see.’
‘I hope you do me the justice to perceive that I only repeated what I had heard on good authority, Miss Browning,’ said Mrs. Dawes in reply.
‘My dear, don’t repeat evil on any authority unless you can do some good by speaking about it,’ said Miss Browning, laying her hand on Mrs. Dawes’ shoulder. ‘I’m not a good woman, but I know what is good, and that advice is. And now I think I can tell you that I beg your pardon for flying out upon you so; but God knows what pain you were putting me to.You’ll forgive me, won’t you, my dear?’ Mrs. Dawes felt the hand trembling on her shoulder, and saw the real distress of Miss Browning’s mind, so it was not difficult for her to grant the requested forgiveness. Then Miss Browning went home, and said but a few words to Phoebe, who indeed saw well enough that her sister had heard the reports confirmed, and needed no further explanation of the cause of scarcely-tasted dinner, and short replies, and saddened looks. Presently Miss Browning sat down and wrote a short note. Then she rang the bell, and told the little maiden who answered it to take it to Mr. Gibson, and if he was out to see that it was given to him as soon as ever he came home. And then she went and put on her Sunday cap; and Miss Phoebe knew that her sister had written to ask Mr. Gibson to come and be told of the rumours affecting his daughter. Miss Browning was sadly disturbed at the information she had received, and the task that lay before her; she was miserably uncomfortable to herself and irritable to Miss Phoebe, and the netting-cotton she was using kept continually snapping and breaking from the jerks of her nervous hands. When the knock at the door was heard,—the well-known doctor’s knock—Miss Browning took off her spectacles; and dropped them on the carpet, breaking them as she did so; and then she bade Miss Phoebe leave the room, as if her presence had cast the evil-eye, and caused the misfortune. She wanted to look natural, and was distressed at forgetting whether she usually received him sitting or standing.
‘Well!’ said he, coming in cheerfully, and rubbing his cold hands as he went straight to the fire, ‘and what is the matter with us? It’s Phoebe, I suppose? I hope none of those old spasms? But, after all, a dose or two will set that to rights.’
‘Oh! Mr. Gibson, I wish it was Phoebe, or me either!’ said Miss Browning, trembling more and more.
He sat down by her patiently, when he saw her agitation, and took her hand in a kind, friendly manner.
‘Don’t hurry yourself,—take your time. I dare say it’s not so bad as you fancy; but we’ll see about it. There’s a great deal of help in the world, much as we abuse it.’
‘Mr. Gibson,’ said she, ‘it’s your Molly I’m so grieved about. It’s out now, and God help us both, and the poor child too, for I’m sure she’s been led astray, and not gone wrong by her own free will.’
‘Molly!’ said he, fighting against her words. ‘What’s my little Molly been doing or saying?’
‘Oh! Mr. Gibson, I don’t know how to tell you. I never would have named it, if I had not been convinced, sorely, sorely against my will.’
‘At any rate, you can let me hear what you’ve heard,’ said he, putting his elbow on the table, and screening his eyes with his hand. ‘Not that I’m a bit afraid of anything you can hear about my girl,’ continued he. ‘Only in this little nest of gossip, it’s as well to know what people are talking about.’
‘They say—oh! how shall I tell you?’
‘Go on, can’t you?’ said he, removing his hand from his blazing eyes. ‘I’m not going to believe it, so don’t be afraid!’
‘But I fear you must believe it. I would not if I could help it. She’s been carrying on a clandestine correspondence with Mr. Preston’—
‘Mr. Preston!’ exclaimed he.
‘And meeting him at all sorts of unseemly places and hours, out of doors,—in the dark,—fainting away in his—his arms, if I must speak out. All the town is talking of it.’ Mr. Gibson’s hand was over his eyes again, and he made no sign; so Miss Browning went on, adding touch to touch. ‘Mr. Sheepshanks saw them together. They have exchanged notes in Grinstead’s shop; she ran after him there.’
‘Be quiet, can’t you?’ said Mr. Gibson, taking his hand away, and showing his grim set face. ‘I’ve heard enough. Don’t go on. I said I shouldn’t believe it, and I don’t. I suppose I must thank you for telling me; but I can’t yet.’
‘I don’t want your thanks,’ said Miss Browning, almost crying. ‘I thought you ought to know; for though you’re married again, I can’t forget you were dear Mary’s husband once upon a time; and Molly’s her child.’