"But here you are, just in such a position before me, Cynthia!"
"Yes! but I love you better than Roger; I've often told Molly so. And
I would have told you, if I hadn't expected and hoped to leave you
all before long. I could see if the recollection of it all came up
before your mind; I could see it in your eyes; I should know it by
instinct. I have a fine instinct for reading the thoughts of others
when they refer to me. I almost hate the idea of Roger judging me by
his own standard, which wasn't made for me, and graciously forgiving
me at last."
"Then I do believe it's right for you to break it off," said Mr.
Gibson, almost as if he were thinking to himself. "That poor poor
lad! But it will be best for him too. And he'll get over it. He has a
good strong heart. Poor old Roger!"
For a moment Cynthia's wilful fancy stretched after the object
passing out of her grasp,--Roger's love became for the instant
a treasure; but, again, she knew that in its entirety of high
undoubting esteem, as well as of passionate regard, it would no
longer be hers; and for the flaw which she herself had made she cast
it away, and would none of it. Yet often in after years, when it
was too late, she wondered and strove to penetrate the inscrutable
mystery of "what would have been."
"Still, take till to-morrow before you act upon your decision," said
Mr. Gibson, slowly. "What faults you have fallen into have been mere
girlish faults at first,--leading you into much deceit, I grant."
"Don't give yourself the trouble to define the shades of blackness,"
said Cynthia, bitterly. "I'm not so obtuse but what I know them all
better than any one can tell me. And as for my decision I acted upon
it at once. It may be long before Roger gets my letter,--but I hope
he is sure to get it at last,--and, as I said, I have let his father
know; it won't hurt him! Oh, sir, I think if I had been differently
brought up I shouldn't have had the sore angry heart I have. Now! No,
don't! I don't want reasoning comfort. I can't stand it. I should
always have wanted admiration and worship, and men's good opinion.
Those unkind gossips! To visit Molly with their hard words! Oh, dear!
I think life is very dreary."
She put her head down on her hands; tired out mentally as well as
bodily. So Mr. Gibson thought. He felt as if much speech from him
would only add to her excitement, and make her worse. He left the
room, and called Molly, from where she was sitting, dolefully. "Go
to Cynthia!" he whispered, and Molly went. She took Cynthia into her
arms with gentle power, and laid her head against her own breast, as
if the one had been a mother, and the other a child.