Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story - Page 392/572

"Never mind the exposure," said Molly. "It will recoil far more on

him than harm you."

Cynthia went a little paler. "But I said things in those letters

about mamma. I was quick-eyed enough to all her faults, and hardly

understood the force of her temptations; and he says he will show

those letters to your father, unless I consent to acknowledge our

engagement."

"He shall not!" said Molly, rising up in her indignation, and

standing before Cynthia almost as resolutely fierce as if she were

in the very presence of Mr. Preston himself. "I am not afraid of him.

He dare not insult me, or if he does I don't care. I will ask him for

those letters, and see if he will dare to refuse me."

"You don't know him," said Cynthia, shaking her head. "He has made

many an appointment with me, just as if he would take back the

money--which has been sealed up ready for him this four months; or as

if he would give me back my letters. Poor, poor Roger! How little he

thinks of all this! When I want to write words of love to him I pull

myself up, for I have written words as affectionate to that other

man. And if Mr. Preston ever guessed that Roger and I were engaged,

he would manage to be revenged on both him and me, by giving us as

much pain as he could with those unlucky letters--written when I was

not sixteen, Molly,--only seven of them! They are like a mine under

my feet, which may blow up any day; and down will come father and

mother and all." She ended bitterly enough, though her words were so

light.

"How can I get them?" said Molly, thinking: "for get them I will.

With papa to back me, he dare not refuse."

"Ah! But that's just the thing. He knows I'm afraid of your father's

hearing of it all, more than of any one else."

"And yet he thinks he loves you!"

"It is his way of loving. He says often enough he doesn't care what

he does so that he gets me to be his wife; and that after that he is

sure he can make me love him." Cynthia began to cry, out of weariness

of body and despair of mind. Molly's arms were round her in a minute,

and she pressed the beautiful head to her bosom, and laid her own

cheek upon it, and hushed her up with lulling words, just as if

Cynthia were a little child.

"Oh, it is such a comfort to have told you all!" murmured Cynthia.

And Molly made reply,--"I am sure we have right on our side; and that

makes me certain he must and shall give up the letters."