Molly found Cynthia in the drawing-room, standing in the bow-window,
looking out on the garden. She started as Molly came up to her.
"Oh, Molly," said she, putting her arms out towards her, "I am always
so glad to have you with me!"
It was outbursts of affection such as these that always called
Molly back, if she had been ever so unconsciously wavering in her
allegiance to Cynthia. She had been wishing downstairs that Cynthia
would be less reserved, and not have so many secrets; but now it
seemed almost like treason to have wanted her to be anything but what
she was. Never had any one more than Cynthia the power spoken of by
Goldsmith when he wrote--
He threw off his friends like a huntsman his pack,
For he knew when he liked he could whistle them back.
"Do you know, I think you'll be glad to hear what I've got to tell
you," said Molly. "I think you would really like to go to London;
shouldn't you?"
"Yes, but it's of no use liking," said Cynthia. "Don't you begin
about it, Molly, for the thing is settled; and I can't tell you why,
but I can't go."
"It is only the money, dear. And papa has been so kind about it. He
wants you to go; he thinks you ought to keep up relationships; and he
is going to give you ten pounds."
"How kind he is!" said Cynthia. "But I ought not to take it. I wish I
had known you years ago; I should have been different to what I am."
"Never mind that! We like you as you are; we don't want you
different. You'll really hurt papa if you don't take it. Why do you
hesitate? Do you think Roger won't like it?"
"Roger! no, I wasn't thinking about him! Why should he care? I shall
be there and back again before he even hears about it."
"Then you will go?" said Molly.
Cynthia thought for a minute or two. "Yes, I will," said she, at
length. "I daresay it's not wise; but it will be pleasant, and I'll
go. Where is Mr. Gibson? I want to thank him. Oh, how kind he is!
Molly, you're a lucky girl!"
"I?" said Molly, quite startled at being told this; for she had been
feeling as if so many things were going wrong, almost as if they
would never go right again.
"There he is!" said Cynthia. "I hear him in the hall!" And down
she flew, and laying her hands on Mr. Gibson's arm, she thanked
him with such warm impulsiveness, and in so pretty and caressing a
manner, that something of his old feeling of personal liking for her
returned, and he forgot for a time the causes of disapproval he had
against her.