'It was not deep, ergo , it was very interesting.Now, a book may be both deep and interesting.' 'Oh, if you are going to chop logic and use Latin words, I think it is time for us to leave the room,' said Mrs Gibson.'Don't let us run away as if we were beaten, mamma,' said Cynthia.'Though it may be logic, I, for one, can understand what Mr Roger Hamley said just now; and I read some of Molly's book; and whether it was deep or not Ifound it very interesting - more so than I should think the "Prisoner of Chillon" now-a-days.I've displaced the Prisoner to make room for Johnnie Gilpin as my favourite poem.' 'How could you talk such nonsense, Cynthia?' said Mrs Gibson, as the girls followed her upstairs.'You know you are not a dunce.It is all very well not to be a blue-stocking, because gentle-people don't like that kind of woman; but running yourself down, and contradicting all I said about your liking for Byron, and poets and poetry - to Osborne Hamley of all men, too!' Mrs Gibson spoke quite crossly for her.'But, mamma,' Cynthia replica, 'I am either a dunce, or I am not.If Iam, I did right to own it; if I am not, he's a dunce if he doesn't find out I was joking.' 'Well,' said Mrs Gibson, a little puzzled by this speech, and wanting some elucidatory addition.'Only that if he's a dunce his opinion of me is worth nothing.So, any way, it doesn't signify.' 'You really bewilder me with your nonsense, child.Molly is worth twenty of you.' 'I quite agree with you, mamma,' said Cynthia, turning round to take Molly's hand.'Yes; but she ought not to be,' said Mrs Gibson, still irritated.'Think of the advantages you've had.' 'I'm afraid I had rather be a dunce than a blue-stocking,' said Molly;for the term had a little annoyed her, and the annoyance was rankling still.'Hush; here they are coming: I hear the dining-room door! I never meant you were a blue-stocking, dear, so don't look vexed.- Cynthia, my love, where did you get those lovely flowers - anemones, are they? They suit your complexion so exactly.' 'Come, Molly, don't look so grave and thoughtful,' exclaimed Cynthia.'Don't you perceive mamma wants us to be smiling and amiable?' Mr Gibson had had to go out to his evening round; and the young men were all too glad to come up into the pretty drawing-room; the bright little wood fire; the comfortable easy chairs which, with so small a party, might be drawn round the hearth; the good-natured hostess; the pretty, agreeable girls.Roger sauntered up to the corner where Cynthia was standing, playing with a hand-screen.'There is a charity ball in Hollingford soon, isn't there?' asked he.'Yes; on Easter Tuesday,' she replied.'Are you going? I suppose you are?' 'Yes; mamma is going to take Molly and me.' 'You will enjoy it very much - going together?' For the first time during this little conversation she glanced up at him - real honest pleasure shining out of her eyes.'Yes; going together will make the enjoyment of the thing.It would be dull without her.' 'You are great friends, then?' he asked.'I never thought I should like any one so much, - any girl I mean.' She put in the final reservation in all simplicity of heart; and in all simplicity did he understand it.He came ever so little nearer, and dropped his voice a little.'I was so anxious to know.I am so glad.I have often wondered how you two were getting on.' 'Have you?' said she, looking up again.'At Cambridge? You must be very fond of Molly!' 'Yes, I am.She was with us so long; and at such a time! I look upon her almost as a sister.' 'And she is very fond of all of you.I seem to know you all from hearing her talk about you so much.- All of you!' said she, laying an emphasis on 'all' to show that it included the dead as well as the living.Roger was silent for a minute or two.'I didn't know you, even by hearsay.So you mustn't wonder that I was a little afraid.But as soon as I saw you, I knew how it must be; and it was such a relief!' 'Cynthia,' said Mrs Gibson, who thought that the younger son had had quite his share of low, confidential conversation, 'come here, and sing that little French ballad to Mr Osborne Hamley.' 'Which do you mean, mamma? "Tu t'en repentiras, Colin"?' 'Yes; such a pretty, playful little warning to young men,' said Mrs Gibson, smiling up at Osborne.'The refrain is - Tu t'en repentiras, Colin, Tu t'en repentiras, Car si tu prends une femme, Colin, Tu t'en repentiras.The advice may apply very well when there is a French wife in the case;but not, I am sure, to an Englishman who is thinking of an English wife.' This choice of a song was exceedingly mal-àpropos , had Mrs Gibson but known it.Osborne and Roger knowing that the wife of the former was a Frenchwoman, and, conscious of each other's knowledge, felt doubly awkward.while Molly was as much confused as though she herself were secretly married.However, Cynthia carolled the saucy ditty out, and her mother smiled at it, in total ignorance of any application it might have.Osborne had instinctively gone to stand behind Cynthia, as she sate at the piano, so as to be ready to turn over the leaves of her music if she required it.He kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixed on her fingers;his countenance clouded with gravity at all the merry quips which she so playfully sang.Roger looked grave as well, but was much more at his case than his brother; indeed, he was half-amused by the awkwardness of the situation.He caught Molly's troubled eyes and heightened colour, and he saw that she was feeling this contretemps more seriously than she needed to do.He moved to a seat by her, and half whispered, 'Too late a warning, is it not?' Molly looked up at him as he leant towards her, and replied in the same tone, - 'Oh, I am so sorry!' 'You need not be.He won't mind it long; and a man must take the consequences when he puts himself in a false position.' Molly could not tell what to reply to this, so she hung her head and kept silence.Yet she could see that Roger did not change his attitude or remove his hand from the back of his chair, and, impelled by curiosity to find out the cause of his stillness, she looked up at him at length, and saw his gaze fixed on the two who were near the piano.Osborne was saying something eagerly to Cynthia, whose grave eyes were upturned to him with soft intentness of expression, and her pretty mouth half-open, with a sort of impatience for him to cease speaking, that she might reply.'They are talking about France,' said Roger, in answer to Molly's unspoken question.'Osborne knows it well, and Miss Kirkpatrick has been at school there, you know.It sounds very interesting; shall we go nearer and hear what they are saying?' It was all very well to ask this civilly, but Molly thought it would have been better to wait for her answer.Instead of waiting, however, Roger went to the piano, and, leaning on it, appeared to join in the light merry talk, while he feasted his eyes as much as he dared by looking at Cynthia.
