“Well, entangled in a love-affair with a lad of three-and-twenty, with nothing beyond his Fellowship and a chance of inheriting an encumbered estate; no profession even, abroad for two years, and I must go and tell his father all about it to-morrow.”

“Oh dear, pray say that, if he dislikes it, he has only to express his opinion.”

“I don’t think you can act without Cynthia in the affair. And, if I am not mistaken, Cynthia will have a pretty stout will of her own on the subject.”

“Oh, I don’t think she cares for him very much; she is not one to be always falling in love, and she does not take things very deeply to heart. But, of course, one would not do anything abruptly; two years’ absence gives one plenty of time to turn oneself in.”

“But a little time ago we were threatened with consumption and an early death, if Cynthia’s affections were thwarted.”

“Oh, you dear creature, how you remember all my silly words! It might be; your know poor dear Mr. Kirkpatrick was consumptive, and Cynthia may have inherited it, and a great sorrow might bring out the latent seeds. At times I am so fearful. But I daresay it is not probable, for I don’t think she takes things very deeply to heart.”

“Then I’m quite at liberty to give up the affair, acting as Cynthia’s proxy, if the Squire disapproves of it?”

Poor Mrs. Gibson was in a strait at this question.

“No!” she said at last. “We cannot give it up. I am sure Cynthia would not; especially if she thought others were acting for her. And he really is very much in love. I wish he were in Osborne’s place!”

“Shall I tell you what I should do?” said Mr. Gibson, in real earnest. “However it may have been brought about, here are two young people in love with each other. One is as fine a young fellow as ever breathed; the other a very pretty, lively, agreeable girl. The father of the young man must be told, and it is most likely he will bluster and oppose; for there is no doubt it is an imprudent affair, as far as money goes. But let them be steady and patient, and a better lot need await no young woman. I only wish it were Molly’s good fortune to meet with such another!”

“I will try for her; I will indeed,” said Mrs. Gibson, relieved by his change of tone.

“No, don’t! That’s one thing I forbid. I’ll have no ‘trying’ for Molly.”

“Well, don’t be angry, dear! Do you know I was quite afraid you were going to lose your temper at one time.”

“It would have been of no use!” said he gloomily, getting up as if to close the sitting. His wife was only too glad to make her escape. The conjugal interview had not been satisfactory to either. Mr. Gibson had been compelled to face and acknowledge the fact, that the wife he had chosen had a very different standard of conduct from that which he had upheld all his life, and had hoped to have seen inculcated in his daughter. He was more irritated than he chose to show; for there was so much of self-reproach in his irritation that he kept it to himself, brooded over it, and allowed a feeling of suspicious dissatisfaction with his wife to grow up in his mind, which extended itself by-and-by to the innocent Cynthia, and caused his manner to both mother and daughter to assume a certain curt severity, which took the latter at any rate with extreme surprise. But, on the present occasion, he followed his wife up to the drawing-room, and gravely congratulated the astonished Cynthia.

“Has mamma told you?” said she, shooting an indignant glance at her mother. “It is hardly an engagement; and we all pledged ourselves to keep it a secret, mamma among the rest!”