Roger was talking earnestly to Mrs. Gibson in the bow of the window
when Molly entered; Cynthia was standing near, listening, but taking
no part in the conversation. Her eyes were downcast, and she did not
look up as Molly drew shyly near.
Roger was saying,--"I could never forgive myself if I had accepted a
pledge from her. She shall be free until my return; but the hope, the
words, her sweet goodness, have made me happy beyond description. Oh,
Molly!" suddenly becoming aware of her presence, and turning to her,
and taking her hand in both of his,--"I think you have long guessed
my secret, have you not? I once thought of speaking to you before I
left, and confiding it all to you. But the temptation has been too
great,--I have told Cynthia how fondly I love her, as far as words
can tell; and she says--" then he looked at Cynthia with passionate
delight, and seemed to forget in that gaze that he had left his
sentence to Molly half finished.
Cynthia did not seem inclined to repeat her saying, whatever it was,
but her mother spoke for her.
"My dear sweet girl values your love as it ought to be valued, I am
sure. And I believe," looking at Cynthia and Roger with intelligent
archness, "I could tell tales as to the cause of her indisposition in
the spring."
"Mother," said Cynthia suddenly, "you know it was no such thing. Pray
don't invent stories about me. I have engaged myself to Mr. Roger
Hamley, and that is enough."
"Enough! more than enough!" said Roger. "I will not accept your
pledge. I am bound, but you are free. I like to feel bound, it makes
me happy and at peace, but with all the chances involved in the next
two years, you must not shackle yourself by promises."
Cynthia did not speak at once; she was evidently revolving something
in her own mind. Mrs. Gibson took up the word.
"You are very generous, I am sure. Perhaps it will be better not to
mention it."
"I would much rather have it kept a secret," said Cynthia,
interrupting.
"Certainly, my dear love. That was just what I was going to say.
I once knew a young lady who heard of the death of a young man in
America, whom she had known pretty well; and she immediately said she
had been engaged to him, and even went so far as to put on weeds; and
it was a false report, for he came back well and merry, and declared
to everybody he had never so much as thought about her. So it was
very awkward for her. These things had much better be kept secret
until the proper time has come for divulging them."