Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story - Page 501/572

Yet he rode slowly, compelling himself to quietness and patience when

he was once really on the way to her.

"Mrs. Gibson at home? Miss Kirkpatrick?" he asked of the servant,

Maria, who opened the door. She was confused, but he did not notice

it.

"I think so--I'm not sure! Will you walk up into the drawing-room,

sir? Miss Gibson is there, I know."

So he went upstairs, all his nerves on the strain for the coming

interview with Cynthia. It was either a relief or a disappointment,

he was not sure which, to find only Molly in the room:--Molly, half

lying on the couch in the bow-window which commanded the garden;

draped in soft white drapery, very white herself, and a laced

half-handkerchief tied over her head to save her from any ill effects

of the air that blew in through the open window. He was so ready to

speak to Cynthia that he hardly knew what to say to any one else.

"I am afraid you are not so well," he said to Molly, who sat up to

receive him, and who suddenly began to tremble with emotion.

"I'm a little tired, that's all," said she; and then she was quite

silent, hoping that he might go, and yet somehow wishing him to stay.

But he took a chair and placed it near her, opposite to the window.

He thought that surely Maria would tell Miss Kirkpatrick that she was

wanted, and that at any moment he might hear her light quick footstep

on the stairs. He felt he ought to talk, but he could not think of

anything to say. The pink flush came out on Molly's cheeks; once or

twice she was on the point of speaking, but again she thought better

of it; and the pauses between their faint disjointed remarks became

longer and longer. Suddenly, in one of these pauses, the merry murmur

of distant happy voices in the garden came nearer and nearer; Molly

looked more and more uneasy and flushed, and in spite of herself

kept watching Roger's face. He could see over her into the garden. A

sudden deep colour overspread him, as if his heart had sent its blood

out coursing at full gallop. Cynthia and Mr. Henderson had come in

sight; he eagerly talking to her as he bent forward to look into her

face; she, her looks half averted in pretty shyness, was evidently

coquetting about some flowers, which she either would not give,

or would not take. Just then, for the lovers had emerged from the

shrubbery into comparatively public life, Maria was seen approaching;

apparently she had feminine tact enough to induce Cynthia to leave

her present admirer, and to go a few steps to meet her to receive

the whispered message that Mr. Roger Hamley was there, and wished to

speak to her. Roger could see her startled gesture; she turned back

to say something to Mr. Henderson before coming towards the house.

Now Roger spoke to Molly--spoke hurriedly, spoke hoarsely.