‘I believe in senior wranglers,’ said Cynthia, her clear high voice ringing through the room. ‘And from all I’ve ever heard of Mr. Roger Hamley, I believe he will keep up the distinction he has earned. And I don’t believe that the house of Hamley is so near extinction in wealth and fame, and good name.’
‘They are fortunate in having Miss Kirkpatrick’s good word,’ said Mr. Preston, rising to take his leave.
‘Dear Molly,’ said Cynthia, in a whisper, ‘I know nothing about your friends the Hamleys, except that they are your friends and what you have told me about them. But I won’t have that man speaking of them so—and your eyes filling with tears all the time. I’d sooner swear to their having all the talents and good fortune under the sun.’
The only person of whom Cynthia appeared to be wholesomely afraid was Mr. Gibson. When he was present she was more careful in speaking, and showed more deference to her mother. Her evident respect for Mr. Gibson, and desire for his good opinion, made her curb herself before him; and in this manner she earned his good favour as a lively, sensible girl, with just so much knowledge of the world as made her a very desirable companion to Molly. Indeed, she made something of the same kind of impression on all men. They were first struck with her personal appearance; and then with her pretty deprecating manner, which appealed to them much as if she had said, ‘You are wise, and I am foolish—have mercy on my folly.’ It was a way she had; it meant nothing really; and she was hardly conscious of it herself; but it was very captivating all the same. Even old Williams, the gardener, felt it; he said to his confidante, Molly—
‘Eh, miss, but that be a rare young lady! She do have such pretty coaxing ways. I be to teach her to bud roses come the season—and I’ll warrant ye she’ll learn sharp enough, for all she says she be’s so stupid.’
If Molly had not had the sweetest disposition in the world she might have become jealous of all the allegiance laid at Cynthia’s feet; but she never thought of comparing the amount of admiration and love which they each received. Yet once she did feel a little as if Cynthia were poaching on her manor. The invitation to the quiet dinner had been sent to Osborne Hamley, and declined by him. But he thought it right to call soon afterwards. It was the first time Molly had seen any of the family since she left the Hall, since Mrs. Hamley’s death; and there was so much that she wanted to ask. She tried to wait patiently till Mrs. Gibson had exhausted the first gush of her infinite nothings; and then Molly came in with her modest questions. How was the squire? Had he returned to his old habits? Had his health suffered? —putting each inquiry with as light and delicate a touch as if she had been dressing a wound. She hesitated a little, a very little, before speaking of Roger; for just one moment the thought flitted across her mind that Osborne might feel the contrast between his own and his brother’s college career too painfully to like to have it referred to; but then she remembered the generous brotherly love that had always existed between the two, and had just entered upon the subject, when Cynthia, in obedience to her mother’s summons, came into the room, and took up her work. No one could have been quieter—she hardly uttered a word; but Osborne seemed to fall under her power at once. He no longer gave his undivided attention to Molly. He cut short his answers to her questions; and by and by, without Molly’s rightly understanding how it was, he had turned towards Cynthia, and was addressing himself to her. Molly saw the look of content on Mrs. Gibson’s face; perhaps it was her own mortification at not having heard all she wished to know about Roger, that gave her a keener insight than usual, but certain it is that all at once she perceived that Mrs. Gibson would not dislike a marriage between Osborne and Cynthia, and considered the present occasion as an auspicious beginning. Remembering the secret which she had been let into so unwillingly, Molly watched his behaviour almost as if she had been retained in the interest of the absent wife; but, after all, thinking as much of the possibility of his attracting Cynthia as of the unknown and mysterious Mrs. Osborne Hamley. His manner was expressive of great interest and of strong prepossession in favour of the beautiful girl to whom he was talking. He was in deep mourning, which showed off his slight figure and delicate refined face. But there was nothing of flirting, as far as Molly understood the meaning of the word, in either looks or words. Cynthia, too, was extremely quiet; she was always much quieter with men than with women; it was part of the charm of her soft allurement that she was so passive. They were talking of France. Mrs. Gibson herself had passed two or three years of her girlhood there; and Cynthia’s late return from Boulogne made it a very natural subject of conversation. But Molly was thrown out of it; and with her heart still unsatisfied as to the details of Roger’s success, she had to stand up at last, and receive Osborne’s good-bye, scarcely longer or more intimate than his farewell to Cynthia. As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Gibson began in his praise.
‘Well, really, I begin to have some faith in long descent. What a gendeman he is! How agreeable and polite! So different from that forward Mr. Preston,’ she continued, looking a little anxious at Cynthia. Cynthia, quite aware that her reply was being watched for, said, coolly—
‘Mr. Preston doesn’t improve on acquaintance. There was a time, mamma, when I think both you and I thought him very agreeable.’
‘I don’t remember. You’ve a clearer memory than I have. But we were talking of this delightful Mr. Osborne Hamley. Why, Molly, you were always talking of his brother—it was Roger this, and Roger that—I can’t think how it was you so seldom mentioned this young man.
‘I didn’t know I had mentioned Mr. Roger Hamley so often,’ said Molly, blushing a little. ‘But I saw much more of him—he was more at home.’
‘Well, well! It’s all right, my dear. I dare say he suits you best. But really, when I saw Osborne Hamley close to my Cynthia, I couldn’t help thinking—but perhaps I’d better not tell you what I was thinking of. Only they are each of them so much above the average in appearance; and, of course, that suggests things.’
‘I perfectly understand what you are thinking of, mamma,’ said Cynthia, with the greatest composure; ‘and so does Molly, I have no doubt.’
‘Well! there’s no harm in it, I’m sure. Did you hear him say that, though he did not like to leave his father alone just at present, yet that when his brother Roger came back from Cambridge, he should feel more at liberty! It was quite as much as to say, “If you will ask me to dinner then, I shall be delighted to come.” And chickens will be so much cheaper, and cook has such a nice way of boning them, and doing them up with forcemeat. Everything seems to be falling out so fortunately. And Molly, my dear, you know I won’t forget you. By and by, when Roger Hamley has taken his turn at stopping at home with his father, we will ask him to one of our little quiet dinners.’
Molly was very slow at taking this in; but in about a minute the sense of it had reached her brain, and she went all over very red and hot; especially as she saw that Cynthia was watching the light come into her mind with great amusement.
‘I’m afraid Molly isn’t properly grateful, mamma. If I were you, I wouldn’t exert myself to give a dinner-party on her account. Bestow all your kindness upon me.’
Molly was often puzzled by Cynthia’s speeches to her mother; and this was one of these occasions. But she was more anxious to say something for herself; she was so much annoyed at the implication in Mrs. Gibson’s last words.
‘Mr. Roger Hamley has been very good to me; he was a great deal at home when I was there, and Mr. Osborne Hamley was very little there: that was the reason I spoke so much more of one than the other. If I had—if he had,’—losing her coherence in the difficulty of finding words—‘I don’t think I should—oh, Cynthia, instead of laughing at me, I think you might help me to explain myself!’