Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story - Page 262/572

"But that was what I said, mamma," said Cynthia, looking at her

mother with an expression of innocent bewilderment on her face. "One

man may--"

"Be quiet, child! All proverbs are vulgar, and I do believe that

is the vulgarest of all. You are really catching Roger Hamley's

coarseness, Cynthia!"

"Mamma," said Cynthia, roused to anger, "I don't mind your abusing

me, but Mr. Roger Hamley has been very kind to me while I've not

been well: I can't bear to hear him disparaged. If he's coarse, I've

no objection to be coarse as well, for it seems to me it must mean

kindliness and pleasantness, and the bringing of pretty flowers and

presents."

Molly's tears were brimming over at these words; she could have

kissed Cynthia for her warm partisanship, but, afraid of betraying

emotion, and "making a scene," as Mrs. Gibson called any signs of

warm feeling, she laid down her book hastily, and ran upstairs to

her room, and locked the door in order to breathe freely. There were

traces of tears upon her face when she returned into the drawing-room

half-an-hour afterwards, walking straight and demurely up to her

former place, where Cynthia still sate and gazed idly out of the

window, pouting and displeased; Mrs. Gibson, meanwhile, counting her

stitches aloud with great distinctness and vigour.