"I don't like them at all in any way," said Molly. "But, perhaps,
it's rather sour grapes with me," she added.
"Nonsense!" said Osborne. "Shall I tell you what I heard of you at
the ball?"
"Or shall I provoke Mr. Preston," said Cynthia, "to begin upon you?
It's like turning a tap, such a stream of pretty speeches flows out
at the moment." Her lip curled with scorn.
"For you, perhaps," said Molly; "but not for me."
"For any woman. It's his notion of making himself agreeable. If you
dare me, Molly, I'll try the experiment, and you'll see with what
success."
"No, don't, pray!" said Molly, in a hurry. "I do so dislike him!"
"Why?" said Osborne, roused to a little curiosity by her vehemence.
"Oh! I don't know. He never seems to know what one is feeling."
"He wouldn't care if he did know," said Cynthia. "And he might know
he is not wanted."
"If he chooses to stay, he cares little whether he is wanted or not."
"Come, this is very interesting," said Osborne. "It is like the
strophe and anti-strophe in a Greek chorus. Pray, go on."
"Don't you know him?" asked Molly.
"Yes, by sight, and I think we were once introduced. But, you know,
we are much farther from Ashcombe, at Hamley, than you are here, at
Hollingford."
"Oh! but he's coming to take Mr. Sheepshanks' place, and then he'll
live here altogether," said Molly.
"Molly! who told you that?" said Cynthia, in quite a different tone
of voice from that in which she had been speaking hitherto.
"Papa,--didn't you hear him? Oh, no! it was before you were down this
morning. Papa met Mr. Sheepshanks yesterday, and he told him it was
all settled: you know we heard a rumour about it in the spring!"
Cynthia was very silent after this. Presently, she said that she had
gathered all the flowers she wanted, and that the heat was so great
she would go indoors. And then Osborne went away. But Molly had set
herself a task to dig up such roots as had already flowered, and to
put down some bedding-out plants in their stead. Tired and heated as
she was she finished it, and then went upstairs to rest, and change
her dress. According to her wont, she sought for Cynthia; there was
no reply to her soft knock at the bedroom-door opposite to her own,
and, thinking that Cynthia might have fallen asleep, and be lying
uncovered in the draught of the open window, she went in softly.
Cynthia was lying upon the bed as if she had thrown herself down on
it without caring for the ease or comfort of her position. She was
very still; and Molly took a shawl, and was going to place it over
her, when she opened her eyes, and spoke,--