Mrs. Gibson came back full of rose-coloured accounts of London. Lady
Cumnor had been gracious and affectionate, "so touched by my going
up to see her so soon after her return to England," Lady Harriet
charming and devoted to her old governess, Lord Cumnor "just like
his dear usual hearty self;" and as for the Kirkpatricks, no Lord
Chancellor's house was ever grander than theirs, and the silk gown of
the Q.C. had floated over housemaids and footmen. Cynthia, too, was
so much admired; and as for her dress, Mrs. Kirkpatrick had showered
down ball-dresses and wreaths, and pretty bonnets and mantles, like a
fairy godmother. Mr. Gibson's poor present of ten pounds shrank into
very small dimensions compared with all this munificence.
"And they're so fond of her, I don't know when we shall have her
back," was Mrs. Gibson's winding-up sentence. "And now, Molly, what
have you and papa been doing? Very gay, you sounded in your letter.
I had not time to read it in London; so I put it in my pocket, and
read it in the coach coming home. But, my dear child, you do look
so old-fashioned with your gown made all tight, and your hair all
tumbling about in curls. Curls are quite gone out. We must do your
hair differently," she continued, trying to smooth Molly's black
waves into straightness.
"I sent Cynthia an African letter," said Molly, timidly. "Did you
hear anything of what was in it?"
"Oh, yes, poor child! It made her very uneasy, I think; she said she
did not feel inclined to go to Mr. Rawson's ball, which was on that
night, and for which Mrs. Kirkpatrick had given her the ball-dress.
But there was really nothing for her to fidget herself about. Roger
only said he had had another touch of fever, but was better when he
wrote. He says every European has to be acclimatized by fever in that
part of Abyssinia where he is."
"And did she go?" asked Molly.
"Yes, to be sure. It is not an engagement; and if it were, it is not
acknowledged. Fancy her going and saying, 'A young man that I know
has been ill for a few days in Africa, two months ago, therefore I
don't want to go to the ball to-night.' It would have seemed like
affectation of sentiment; and if there's one thing I hate it is
that."
"She would hardly enjoy herself," said Molly.
"Oh, yes, but she did. Her dress was white gauze, trimmed with
lilacs, and she really did look--a mother may be allowed a little
natural partiality--most lovely. And she danced every dance, although
she was quite a stranger. I am sure she enjoyed herself, from her
manner of talking about it next morning."