"Yes," said Molly; "I didn't know if any one besides me had noticed
it. I was quite shocked."
"Ah," said Mrs. Gibson, "I'm afraid that young man won't live
long--very much afraid," and she shook her head ominously.
"Oh, what will happen if he dies!" exclaimed Molly, suddenly sitting
down, and thinking of that strange, mysterious wife who never made
her appearance, whose very existence was never spoken about--and
Roger away too!
"Well, it would be very sad, of course, and we should all feel it
very much, I've no doubt; for I've always been very fond of Osborne;
in fact, before Roger became, as it were, my own flesh and blood, I
liked Osborne better: but we must not forget the living, dear Molly,"
(for Molly's eyes were filling with tears at the dismal thoughts
presented to her). "Our dear good Roger would, I am sure, do all in
his power to fill Osborne's place in every way; and his marriage need
not be so long delayed."
"Don't speak of that in the same breath as Osborne's life, mamma,"
said Cynthia, hastily.
"Why, my dear, it is a very natural thought. For poor Roger's sake,
you know, one wishes it not to be so very, very long an engagement;
and I was only answering Molly's question, after all. One can't help
following out one's thoughts. People must die, you know--young, as
well as old."
"If I ever suspected Roger of following out his thoughts in a similar
way," said Cynthia, "I'd never speak to him again."
"As if he would!" said Molly, warm in her turn. "You know he never
would; and you shouldn't suppose it of him, Cynthia--no, not even for
a moment!"
"I can't see the great harm of it all, for my part," said Mrs.
Gibson, plaintively. "A young man strikes us all as looking very
ill--and I'm sure I'm sorry for it; but illness very often leads to
death. Surely you agree with me there, and what's the harm of saying
so? Then Molly asks what will happen if he dies; and I try to answer
her question. I don't like talking or thinking of death any more than
any one else; but I should think myself wanting in strength of mind
if I could not look forward to the consequences of death. I really
think we're commanded to do so, somewhere in the Bible or the
Prayer-book."
"Do you look forward to the consequences of my death, mamma?" asked
Cynthia.
"You really are the most unfeeling girl I ever met with," said Mrs.
Gibson, really hurt. "I wish I could give you a little of my own
sensitiveness, for I have too much for my happiness. Don't let us
speak of Osborne's looks again; ten to one it was only some temporary
over-fatigue, or some anxiety about Roger, or perhaps a little fit
of indigestion. I was very foolish to attribute it to anything more
serious, and dear papa might be displeased if he knew I had done
so. Medical men don't like other people to be making conjectures
about health; they consider it as trenching on their own particular
province, and very proper, I'm sure. Now let us consider about your
dress, Cynthia; I could not understand how you had spent your money,
and made so little show with it."