All the rest of that day Molly was depressed and not well. Having
anything to conceal was so unusual--almost so unprecedented a
circumstance with her that it preyed upon her in every way.
It was a nightmare that she could not shake off; she did so wish to
forget it all, and yet every little occurrence seemed to remind her
of it. The next morning's post brought several letters; one from
Roger for Cynthia, and Molly, letterless herself, looked at Cynthia
as she read it, with wistful sadness. It appeared to Molly as though
Cynthia should have no satisfaction in these letters, until she had
told him what was her exact position with Mr. Preston; yet Cynthia
was colouring and dimpling up as she always did at any pretty words
of praise, or admiration, or love. But Molly's thoughts and Cynthia's
reading were both interrupted by a little triumphant sound from Mrs.
Gibson, as she pushed a letter she had just received to her husband,
with a--
"There! I must say I expected that!" Then, turning to Cynthia, she
explained--"It is a letter from uncle Kirkpatrick, love. So kind,
wishing you to go and stay with them, and help them to cheer up
Helen; poor Helen! I am afraid she is very far from well. But
we could not have had her here, without disturbing dear papa in
his consulting-room; and, though I could have relinquished my
dressing-room--he--well! so I said in my letter how you were
grieved--you above all of us, because you are such a friend of
Helen's, you know--and how you longed to be of use,--as I am sure you
do--and so now they want you to go up directly, for Helen has quite
set her heart upon it."
Cynthia's eyes sparkled. "I shall like going," said she--"all but
leaving you, Molly," she added, in a lower tone, as if suddenly
smitten with some compunction.
"Can you be ready to go by the 'Bang-up' to-night?" said Mr. Gibson;
"for, curiously enough, after more than twenty years of quiet
practice at Hollingford, I am summoned up to-day for the first time
to a consultation in London to-morrow. I'm afraid Lady Cumnor is
worse, my dear."
"You don't say so? Poor dear lady! What a shock it is to me! I'm so
glad I've had some breakfast. I could not have eaten anything."
"Nay, I only say she is worse. With her complaint, being worse may be
only a preliminary to being better. Don't take my words for more than
their literal meaning."
"Thank you. How kind and reassuring dear papa always is! About your
gowns, Cynthia?"