Cynthia took the utmost pains in dressing Molly, leaving the clever
housemaid to her mother's exclusive service. Mrs. Gibson was more
anxious about her attire than was either of the girls; it had given
her occasion for deep thought and not a few sighs. Her deliberation
had ended in her wearing her pearl-grey satin wedding-gown, with a
profusion of lace, and white and coloured lilacs. Cynthia was the one
who took the affair most lightly. Molly looked upon the ceremony of
dressing for a first ball as rather a serious ceremony; certainly as
an anxious proceeding. Cynthia was almost as anxious as herself; only
Molly wanted her appearance to be correct and unnoticed; and Cynthia
was desirous of setting off Molly's rather peculiar charms--her
cream-coloured skin, her profusion of curly black hair, her beautiful
long-shaped eyes, with their shy, loving expression. Cynthia took
up so much time in dressing Molly to her mind, that she herself had
to perform her toilette in a hurry. Molly, ready dressed, sate on a
low chair in Cynthia's room, watching the pretty creature's rapid
movements, as she stood in her petticoat before the glass, doing up
her hair, with quick certainty of effect. At length, Molly heaved a
long sigh, and said,--
"I should like to be pretty!"
"Why, Molly," said Cynthia, turning round with an exclamation on the
tip of her tongue; but when she caught the innocent, wistful look on
Molly's face, she instinctively checked what she was going to say,
and, half-smiling to her own reflection in the glass, she said,--"The
French girls would tell you, to believe that you were pretty would
make you so."
Molly paused before replying,--
"I suppose they would mean that if you knew you were pretty, you
would never think about your looks; you would be so certain of being
liked, and that it is caring--"
"Listen! that's eight o'clock striking. Don't trouble yourself with
trying to interpret a French girl's meaning, but help me on with my
frock, there's a dear one."
The two girls were dressed, and were standing over the fire waiting
for the carriage in Cynthia's room, when Maria (Betty's successor)
came hurrying into the room. Maria had been officiating as maid to
Mrs. Gibson, but she had had intervals of leisure, in which she had
rushed upstairs, and, under the pretence of offering her services,
had seen the young ladies' dresses, and the sight of so many nice
clothes had sent her into a state of excitement which made her think
nothing of rushing upstairs for the twentieth time, with a nosegay
still more beautiful than the two previous ones.