Pray, remember my early application for that honour, when you are overwhelmed with requests for dances.' 'I don't choose to engage myself beforehand,' said Molly, perceiving, from under her dropped eyelids, that he was leaning forwards and looking at her as though he was determined to have an answer.'Young ladies are always very cautious in fact, however modest they may be in profession,' he replied, addressing himself in a nonchalant manner to Mrs Gibson.'In spite of Miss Gibson's apprehension of not having many partners she declines the certainty of having one.I suppose Miss Kirkpatrick will have returned from France before then?' He said these last words exactly in the same tone as he had used before;but Molly's instinct told her that he was making an effort to do so.She looked up.He was playing with his hat, almost as if he did not care to have any answer to his question.Yet he was listening acutely, and with a half smile on his face.Mrs Gibson reddened a little, and hesitated, - 'Yes; certainly.My daughter will be with us next winter, I believe; and I daresay she will go out with us.' 'Why can't she say at once that Cynthia is here now?' asked Molly to herself, yet glad that Mr Preston's curiosity was baffled.He still smiled; but this time he looked up at Mrs Gibson, as he asked, - 'You have good news from her, I hope?' 'Yes; very.By the way, how are our old friends the Robinsons? How often I think of their kindness to me at Ashcombe! Dear good people, I wish Icould see them again.' 'I will certainly tell them of your kind inquiries.They are very well, I believe.' Just at this moment, Molly heard the familiar sound of the click and opening of the front door.She knew it must be Cynthia; and, conscious of some mysterious reason which made Mrs Gibson wish to conceal her daughter's whereabouts from Mr Preston, and maliciously desirous to baffle him, she rose to leave the room, and meet Cynthia on the stairs; but one of the lost crewels of worsted had entangled itself in her gown and feet, and before she had freed herself of the encumbrance, Cynthia had opened the drawing-room door, and stood in it, looking at her mother, at Molly, at Mr Preston, but not advancing one step.Her colour, which had been brilliant the first moment of her entrance, faded away as she gazed; but her eyes - her beautiful eyes - usually so soft and grave, seemed to fill with fire, and her brows to contract, as she took the resolution to come forwards and take her place among the three, who were all looking at her with different emotions.She moved calmly and slowly forwards; Mr Preston went a step or two to meet her, his hand held out, and the whole expression of his face that of eager delight.But she took no notice of the outstretched hand, nor of the chair that he offered her.She sate down on a little sofa in one of the windows, and called Molly to her.'Look at my purchases,' said she.'This green ribbon was fourteen-pence a yard, this silk three shillings,' and so she went on, forcing herself to speak about these trifles as if they were all the world to her, and she had no attention to throw away on her mother and her mother's visitor.Mr Preston took his cue from her.He, too, talked of the news of the day, the local gossip - but Molly, who glanced up at him from time to time, was almost alarmed by the bad expression of suppressed anger, almost amounting to vindictiveness, which entirely marred his handsome looks.She did not wish to look again; and tried rather to back up Cynthia's efforts at maintaining a separate conversation.Yet she could not help overhearing Mrs Gibson's strain after increased civility, as if to make up for Cynthia's rudeness, and, if possible, to deprecate his anger.She talked perpetually, as though her object were to detain him; whereas previous to Cynthia's return she had allowed frequent pauses in the conversation, as though to give him the opportunity to take his leave.In the course of the conversation between them the Hamleys came up.Mrs Gibson was never unwilling to dwell upon Molly's intimacy with this county family; and when the latter caught the sound of her own name, her stepmother was saying, - 'Poor Mrs Hamley could hardly do without Molly; she quite looked upon her as a daughter, especially towards the last, when, I am afraid, she had a good deal of anxiety.Mr Osborne Hamley - I daresay you have heard -he did not do so well at college, and they had expected so much - parents will, you know; but what did it signify? for he had not to earn his living!
I call it a very foolish kind of ambition when a young man has not to go into a profession.' 'Well, at any rate, the squire must be satisfied now.I saw this morning's Times , with the Cambridge examination lists in it.Isn't the second son called after his father, Roger?' 'Yes,' said Molly, starting up, and coming nearer.'He's senior wrangler, that's all,' said Mr Preston, almost as though he were vexed with himself for having anything to say that could give her pleasure.Molly went back to her seat by Cynthia.'Poor Mrs Hamley,' said she very softly, as if to herself.Cynthia took her hand, in sympathy with Molly's sad and tender look, rather than because she understood all that was passing in her mind, nor did she quite understand it herself.A death that had come out of time; a wonder if the dead knew what passed upon the earth they had left - the brilliant Osborne's failure, Roger's success; the vanity of human wishes; all these thoughts, and what they suggested, were inextricably mingled up in her mind.She came to herself in a few minutes.Mr Preston was saying all the unpleasant things he could think of about the Hamleys in a tone of false sympathy.'The poor old squire - not the wisest of men - has woefully mismanaged his estate.And Osborne Hamley is too fine a gentleman to understand the means by which to improve the value of the land - even if he had the capital.
