Chapter 45

Confidences

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 up 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 am 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?'

'Oh, they are all right, mamma, thank you. I shall be quite ready by four o'clock. Molly, will you come with me and help me to pack? I wanted to speak to you, dear,' said she, as soon as they had gone upstairs. 'It is such a relief to get away from a place haunted by that man; but I'm afraid you thought I was glad to leave you; and indeed I am not.' There was a little flavour of 'protesting too much' about this; but Molly did not