“Shall you tell Roger about it?”

Cynthia replied, “I’ve not thought about it—no! I don’t think I shall—there’s no need. Perhaps, if we are ever married”——

“Ever married!” said Molly, under her breath. But Cynthia took no notice of the exclamation until she had finished the sentence which it interrupted.

“——and I can see his face and know his mood, I may tell it him then; but not in writing, and when he is absent; it might annoy him.”

“I am afraid it would make him uncomfortable,” said Molly simply. “And yet it must be so pleasant to be able to tell him everything—all your difficulties and troubles.”

“Yes; only I don’t worry him with these things; it’s better to write him merry letters, and cheer him up among the black folk. You repeated ‘Ever married,’ a little while ago; do you know, Molly, I don’t think I ever shall be married to him? I don’t know why, but I have a strong presentiment; so it’s just as well not to tell him all my secrets, for it would be awkward for him to know them, if it never came off!”

Molly dropped her work, and sat silent, looking into the future; at length she said, “I think it would break his heart, Cynthia!”

“Nonsense! Why, I’m sure that Mr. Coxe came here with the intention of falling in love with you—you needn’t blush so violently. I’m sure you saw it as plainly as I did; only you made yourself disagreeable, and I took pity on him, and consoled his wounded vanity.”

“Can you—do you dare to compare Roger Hamley to Mr. Coxe?” asked Molly indignantly.

“No, no, I don’t!” said Cynthia in a moment. “They are as different as men can be. Don’t be so dreadfully serious over everything, Molly! You look as oppressed with sad reproach, as if I had been passing on to you the scolding your father gave me.”

“Because I don’t think you value Roger as you ought, Cynthia!” said Molly stoutly, for it required a good deal of courage to force herself to say this, although she could not tell why she shrank so from speaking.

“Yes, I do! It’s not in my nature to go into ecstasies, and I don’t suppose I shall ever be what people call ‘in love.’ But I am glad he loves me, and I like to make him happy, and I think him the best and most agreeable man I know, always excepting your father when he isn’t angry with me. What can I say more, Molly? would you like me to say I think him handsome?”

“I know most people think him plain, but”——

“Well, I’m of the opinion of most people then, and small blame to them! But I like his face—oh, ten thousand times better than Mr. Preston’s handsomeness!” For the first time during the conversation Cynthia seemed thoroughly in earnest. Why Mr. Preston was introduced neither she nor Molly knew; it came up and out by a sudden impulse; but a fierce look came into the eyes, and the soft lips contracted themselves as Cynthia named his name. Molly had noticed this look before, always at the mention of this one person.

“Cynthia, what makes you dislike Mr. Preston so much?”

“Don’t you? Why do you ask me? and yet, Molly,” said she, suddenly relaxing into depression, not merely in tone and look, but in the droop of her limbs—“Molly, what should you think of me if I married him after all?”

“Married him! Has he ever asked you?” But Cynthia, instead of replying to this question, went on, uttering her own thoughts.