Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story - Page 336/572

"Perhaps. I daresay I'm all wrong, and that he is all right," said

Cynthia, piqued and pouting. "We used to say in France, that '_les

absens ont toujours tort_,' but really it seems as if here--" she

stopped. She was unwilling to be impertinent to a man whom she

respected and liked. She took up another point of her defence, and

rather made matters worse. "Besides, Roger would not allow me to

consider myself as finally engaged to him; I would willingly have

done it, but he would not let me."

"Nonsense. Don't let us go on talking about it, Cynthia! I've said

all that I mean to say. I believe that you were only thoughtless, as

I told you before. But don't let it happen again." He left the room

at once, to put a stop to the conversation, the continuance of which

would serve no useful purpose, and perhaps end by irritating him.

"Not guilty, but we recommend the prisoner not to do it again. It's

pretty much that, isn't it, Molly?" said Cynthia, letting her tears

downfall, even while she smiled. "I do believe your father might make

a good woman of me yet, if he would only take the pains, and wasn't

quite so severe. And to think of that stupid little fellow making all

this mischief! He pretended to take it to heart, as if he had loved

me for years instead of only for days. I daresay only for hours if

the truth were told."

"I was afraid he was becoming very fond of you," said Molly; "at

least it struck me once or twice; but I knew he could not stay long,

and I thought it would only make you uncomfortable if I said anything

about it. But now I wish I had!"

"It wouldn't have made a bit of difference," replied Cynthia. "I knew

he liked me, and I like to be liked; it's born in me to try to make

every one I come near fond of me; but then they shouldn't carry it

too far, for it becomes very troublesome if they do. I shall hate

red-haired people for the rest of my life. To think of such a man as

that being the cause of your father's displeasure with me!"

Molly had a question at her tongue's end that she longed to put; she

knew it was indiscreet, but at last out it came almost against her

will:

"Shall you tell Roger about it?"

Cynthia replied, "I've not thought about it--no! I don't think I

shall--there's no need. Perhaps, if we are ever married--"

"Ever married!" said Molly, under her breath. But Cynthia took no

notice of the exclamation until she had finished the sentence which

it interrupted.