"It would be a charming plan, only--Well! we know why we would rather
not have it, don't we, love? And we won't tell papa, for fear of
making him vain. No! I think I must leave her with you, dear Mr.
Gibson, to have you all to herself for these last few weeks. It would
be cruel to take her away."
"But you know, my dear, I told you of the reason why it does not do
to have Molly at home just at present," said Mr. Gibson, eagerly. For
the more he knew of his future wife, the more he felt it necessary
to remember that, with all her foibles, she would be able to stand
between Molly and any such adventures as that which had occurred
lately with Mr. Coxe; so that one of the good reasons for the step he
had taken was always present to him, while it had slipped off the
smooth surface of Mrs. Kirkpatrick's mirror-like mind without leaving
any impression. She now recalled it, on seeing Mr. Gibson's anxious
face.
But what were Molly's feelings at these last words of her father's?
She had been sent from home for some reason, kept a secret from her,
but told to this strange woman. Was there to be perfect confidence
between these two, and she to be for ever shut out? Was she, and what
concerned her--though how she did not know--to be discussed between
them for the future, and she to be kept in the dark? A bitter pang
of jealousy made her heart-sick. She might as well go to Ashcombe,
or anywhere else, now. Thinking more of others' happiness than
of her own was very fine; but did it not mean giving up her very
individuality, quenching all the warm love, the true desires, that
made her herself? Yet in this deadness lay her only comfort; or so it
seemed. Wandering in such mazes, she hardly knew how the conversation
went on; a third was indeed "trumpery," where there was entire
confidence between the two who were company, from which the other was
shut out. She was positively unhappy, and her father did not appear
to see it; he was absorbed with his new plans and his new wife that
was to be. But he did notice it; and was truly sorry for his little
girl: only he thought that there was a greater chance for the future
harmony of the household, if he did not lead Molly to define her
present feelings by putting them into words. It was his general plan
to repress emotion by not showing the sympathy he felt. Yet, when he
had to leave, he took Molly's hand in his, and held it there, in such
a different manner to that in which Mrs. Kirkpatrick had done; and
his voice softened to his child as he bade her good-by, and added the
words (most unusual to him), "God bless you, child!"