Wives and Daughters | Page 6

gloves; hitherto she had only had cotton ones. Her gloves
were far too large for the little dimpled fingers, but as Betty had told
her they were to last her for years, it was all very well. She trembled
many a time, and almost turned faint once with the long expectation of
the morning. Betty might say what she liked about a watched pot never
boiling; Molly never ceased to watch the approach through the winding
street, and after two hours the carriage came for her at last. She had to
sit very forward to avoid crushing the Miss Brownings' new dresses;
and yet not too forward, for fear of incommoding fat Mrs. Goodenough
and her niece, who occupied the front seat of the carriage; so that
altogether the fact of sitting down at all was rather doubtful, and to add
to her discomfort, Molly felt herself to be very conspicuously placed in
the centre of the carriage, a mark for all the observation of Hollingford.
It was far too much of a gala day for the work of the little town to go
forward with its usual regularity. Maid-servants gazed out of upper
windows; shopkeepers' wives stood on the doorsteps; cottagers ran out,
with babies in their arms; and little children, too young to know how to
behave respectfully at the sight of an earl's carriage, huzzaed merrily as
it bowled along. The woman at the lodge held the gate open, and
dropped a low curtsey to the liveries. And now they were in the Park;
and now they were in sight of the Towers, and silence fell upon the
carriage-full of ladies, only broken by one faint remark from Mrs.
Goodenough's niece, a stranger to the town, as they drew up before the
double semicircle flight of steps which led to the door of the mansion.
'They call that a perron, I believe, don't they?' she asked. But the only
answer she obtained was a simultaneous 'hush.' It was very awful, as
Molly thought, and she half wished herself at home again. But she lost
all consciousness of herself by-and-by when the party strolled out into

the beautiful grounds, the like of which she had never even imagined.
Green velvet lawns, bathed in sunshine, stretched away on every side
into the finely wooded park; if there were divisions and ha- has
between the soft sunny sweeps of grass, and the dark gloom of the
forest-trees beyond, Molly did not see them; and the melting away of
exquisite cultivation into the wilderness had an inexplicable charm to
her. Near the house there were walls and fences; but they were covered
with climbing roses, and rare honeysuckles and other creepers just
bursting into bloom, There were flower-beds, too, scarlet, crimson, blue,
orange; masses of blossom lying on the greensward. Molly held Miss
Browning's hand very tight as they loitered about in company with
several other ladies, and marshalled by a daughter of the Towers, who
seemed half amused at the voluble admiration showered down upon
every possible thing and place. Molly said nothing, as became her age
and position, but every now and then she relieved her full heart by
drawing a deep breath, almost like a sigh. Presently they came to the
long glittering range of greenhouses and hothouses, and an attendant
gardener was there to admit the party. Molly did not care for this half
so much as for the flowers in the open air; but Lady Agnes had a more
scientific taste, she expatiated on the rarity of this, and the mode of
cultivation required by that plant, till Molly began to feel very tired,
and then very faint. She was too shy to speak for some time; but at
length, afraid of making a greater sensation if she began to cry, or if she
fell against the stands of precious flowers, she caught at Miss
Browning's hand, and gasped out,--'May I go back, out into the garden?
I can't breathe here!'
'Oh, yes, to be sure, love. I dare say it's hard understanding for you,
love; but it's very fine and instructive, and a deal of Latin in it too.'
She turned hastily round not to lose another word of Lady Agnes'
lecture on orchids, and Molly turned back and passed out of the heated
atmosphere. She felt better in the fresh air; and unobserved, and at
liberty, went from one lovely spot to another, now in the open park,
now in some shut-in flower-garden, where the song of the birds, and
the drip of the central fountain, were the only sounds, and the tree-tops
made an enclosing circle in the blue June sky; she went along without

more thought as to her whereabouts than a butterfly has, as it skims
from flower to flower, till at length