"Is Cynthia unable to come?" asked he, perceiving that she expected
him.
"I did not know you thought that you should meet her," said Molly, a
little surprised. In her simplicity she had believed that Cynthia had
named that it was she, Molly Gibson, who would meet Mr. Preston at a
given time and place; but Cynthia had been too worldly-wise for that,
and had decoyed him thither by a vaguely worded note, which, while
avoiding actual falsehood, had led him to believe that she herself
would give him the meeting.
"She said she should be here," said Mr. Preston, extremely annoyed at
being entrapped, as he now felt that he had been, into an interview
with Miss Gibson. Molly hesitated a little before she spoke. He was
determined not to break the silence; as she had intruded herself into
the affair, she should find her situation as awkward as possible.
"At any rate she sent me here to meet you," said Molly. "She has told
me exactly how matters stand between you and her."
"Has she?" sneered he. "She is not always the most open or reliable
person in the world!"
Molly reddened. She perceived the impertinence of the tone; and her
temper was none of the coolest. But she mastered herself and gained
courage by so doing.
"You should not speak so of the person you profess to wish to have
for your wife. But putting all that aside, you have some letters of
hers that she wishes to have back again."
"I daresay."
"And that you have no right to keep."
"No legal, or no moral right? which do you mean?"
"I do not know; simply you have no right at all, as a gentleman, to
keep a girl's letters when she asks for them back again, much less to
hold them over her as a threat."
"I see you do know all, Miss Gibson," said he, changing his manner to
one of more respect. "At least she has told you her story from her
point of view, her side; now you must hear mine. She promised me as
solemnly as ever woman--"
"She was not a woman, she was only a girl, barely sixteen."
"Old enough to know what she was doing; but I'll call her a girl if
you like. She promised me solemnly to be my wife, making the one
stipulation of secrecy, and a certain period of waiting; she wrote
me letters repeating this promise, and confidential enough to prove
that she considered herself bound to me by such an implied relation.
I don't give in to humbug--I don't set myself up as a saint--and in
most ways I can look after my own interests pretty keenly; you know
enough of her position as a penniless girl, and at that time, with
no influential connections to take the place of wealth, and help me
on in the world, it was as sincere and unworldly a passion as ever
man felt; she must say so herself. I might have married two or three
girls with plenty of money; one of them was handsome enough, and not
at all reluctant."