Mr. Preston took his cue from her. He, too, talked of the news of the day, the local gossip—but Molly, who glanced up at him from time to time, was almost alarmed by the bad expression of suppressed anger, nearly amounting to vindictiveness, which entirely marred his handsome looks. She did not wish to look again, and tried rather to back up Cynthia’s efforts at maintaining a separate conversation. Yet she could not help overhearing Mrs. Gibson’s strain after increased civility, as if to make up for Cynthia’s rudeness, and, if possible, to deprecate his anger. She talked perpetually, as though her object were to detain him; whereas, previous to Cynthia’s return, she had allowed frequent pauses in the conversation, as if to give him the opportunity to take his leave.

In the course of the conversation between them, the Hamleys came up. Mrs. Gibson was never unwilling to dwell upon Molly’s intimacy with this county-family; and, when the latter caught the sound of her own name, her stepmother was saying—

“Poor Mrs. Hamley could hardly do without Molly; she quite looked upon her as a daughter, especially towards the last, when, I am afraid, she had a good deal of anxiety. Mr. Osborne Hamley—I daresay you have heard—he did not do so well at college, and they had expected so much —parents will, you know; but what did it signify? for he has not to earn his living! I call it a very foolish kind of ambition, when a young man has not to go into a profession.”

“Well, at any rate, the Squire must be satisfied now. I saw this morning’s “Times,” with the Cambridge examination lists in it. Isn’t the second son called after his father, Roger?”

“Yes,” said Molly, starting up, and coming nearer.

“He’s senior wrangler, that’s all,”said Mr. Preston, almost as though he were vexed with himself for having anything to say that could give her pleasure. Molly went back to her seat by Cynthia.

“Poor Mrs. Hamley,” said she very softly, as if to herself. Cynthia took her hand, in sympathy with Molly’s sad and tender look, rather than because she understood all that was passing in her mind; nor did Molly quite understand it herself. A death that had come out of time; a wonder whether the dead knew what passed upon the earth they had left—the brilliant Osborne’s failure, Roger’s success; the vanity of human wishes—all these thoughts, and what they suggested, were inextricably mingled up in her mind. She came to herself in a few minutes. Mr. Preston was saying all the unpleasant things he could think of about the Hamleys, in a tone of false sympathy.

“The poor old Squire—not the wisest of men—has woefully mismanaged his estate. And Osborne Hamley is too fine a gentleman to understand the means by which to improve the value of the land—even if he had the capital. A man who had practical knowledge of agriculture, and some thousands of ready money, might bring the rental up to eight thousand or so. Of course, Osborne will try and marry some one with money; the family is old and well-established, and he mustn’t object to commercial descent, though I daresay the Squire will for him; but then the young fellow himself is not the man for the work. No! the family’s going down fast; and it’s a pity when these old Saxon houses vanish off the land; but it is ‘kismet’ with the Hamleys. Even the senior wrangler—if it is that Roger Hamley—he will have spent all his brains in one effort. You never hear of a senior wrangler being worth anything afterwards. He’ll be a Fellow of his college, of course—that will be a livelihood for him, at any rate.”

“I believe in senior wranglers,” said Cynthia, her clear high voice ringing through the room. “And from all I’ve ever heard of Mr. Roger Hamley, I believe he will keep up the distinction he has earned. And I don’t believe that the house of Hamley is so near extinction in wealth and fame, and good name.”

“They are fortunate in having Miss Kirkpatrick’s good word,” said Mr. Preston, rising to take his leave.

“Dear Molly,” said Cynthia, in a whisper, “I know nothing about your friends the Hamleys, except that they are your friends, and what you have told me about them. But I won’t have that man speaking of