"Has mamma told you?" said she, shooting an indignant glance at her
mother. "It is hardly an engagement; and we all pledged ourselves to
keep it a secret, mamma among the rest!"
"But, my dearest Cynthia, you could not expect--you could not have
wished me to keep a secret from my husband?" pleaded Mrs. Gibson.
"No, perhaps not. At any rate, sir," said Cynthia, turning towards
him with graceful frankness, "I am glad you should know it. You have
always been a most kind friend to me, and I daresay I should have
told you myself, but I did not want it named; if you please, it must
still be a secret. In fact, it is hardly an engagement--he" (she
blushed and sparkled a little at the euphuism, which implied that
there was but one "he" present in her thoughts at the moment) "would
not allow me to bind myself by any promise until his return!"
Mr. Gibson looked gravely at her, irresponsive to her winning looks,
which at the moment reminded him too forcibly of her mother's ways.
Then he took her hand, and said, seriously enough,--"I hope you are
worthy of him, Cynthia, for you have indeed drawn a prize. I have
never known a truer or warmer heart than Roger's; and I have known
him boy and man."
Molly felt as if she could have thanked her father aloud for this
testimony to the value of him who was gone away. But Cynthia pouted a
little before she smiled up in his face.
"You are not complimentary, are you, Mr. Gibson?" said she. "He
thinks me worthy, I suppose; and if you have so high an opinion
of him, you ought to respect his judgment of me." If she hoped to
provoke a compliment she was disappointed, for Mr. Gibson let go her
hand in an absent manner, and sate down in an easy chair by the fire,
gazing at the wood embers as if hoping to read the future in them.
Molly saw Cynthia's eyes fill with tears, and followed her to the
other end of the room, where she had gone to seek some working
materials.
"Dear Cynthia," was all she said; but she pressed her hand while
trying to assist in the search.
"Oh, Molly, I am so fond of your father; what makes him speak so to
me to-night?"
"I don't know," said Molly; "perhaps he's tired."
They were recalled from further conversation by Mr. Gibson. He had
roused himself from his reverie, and was now addressing Cynthia.
"I hope you will not consider it a breach of confidence, Cynthia, but
I must tell the Squire of--of what has taken place to-day between
you and his son. I have bound myself by a promise to him. He was
afraid--it's as well to tell you the truth--he was afraid" (an
emphasis on this last word) "of something of this kind between his
sons and one of you two girls. It was only the other day I assured
him there was nothing of the kind on foot; and I told him then I
would inform him at once if I saw any symptoms."