“You mean that you regret that she has not been made aware of our engagement—that you promised long ago to be my wife. Pray remember that it was you who made me promise secrecy, not I you!”

“I don’t believe him, Cynthia. Don’t, don’t cry, if you can help it; I don’t believe him.”

“Cynthia,” said he, suddenly changing his tone to fervid tenderness, “pray, pray do not go on so; you can’t think how it distresses me!” He stepped forward, to try and take her hand and soothe her; but she shrank away from him, and sobbed the more irrepressibly. She felt Molly’s presence so much to be a protection that now she dared to let herself go, and weaken herself by giving way to her emotion.

“Go away!” said Molly. “Don’t you see you make her worse?” But he did not stir; he was looking at Cynthia so intently that he did not seem even to hear Molly. “Go!” said she, vehemently, “if it really distresses you to see her cry. Don’t you see it’s you who are the cause of it?”

“I will go, if Cynthia tells me,” said he at length.

“Oh, Molly, I don’t know what to do,” said Cynthia, taking down her hands from her tear-stained face, and appealing to Molly, and sobbing worse than ever; in fact, she became hysterical, and, though she tried to speak coherently, no intelligible words would come.

“Run to that cottage in the trees, and fetch her a cup of water,” said Molly. He hesitated a little.

“Why don’t you go?” said Molly impatiently

“I have not done speaking to her; you will not leave before I come back?”

“No. Don’t you see she can’t move in this state?”

He went quickly, if reluctantly.

Cynthia was some time before she could check her sobs enough to speak. At length she said—

“Molly, I do hate him!”

“But what did he mean by saying you were engaged to him? Don’t cry, dear, but tell me; if I can help you, I will; but I can’t imagine what it all really is.”

“It’s too long a story to tell now, and I’m not strong enough. Look! he’s coming back. As soon as I can, let us get home!”

“With all my heart,” said Molly.

He brought the water, and Cynthia drank, and was restored to calmness.

“Now,” said Molly, “we had better go home, as fast as you can manage it; it’s getting dark quickly.”

If she hoped to carry Cynthia off so easily, she was mistaken. Mr. Preston was resolute on this point. He said—

“I think, since Miss Gibson has made herself acquainted with this much, we had better let her know the whole truth —that you are engaged to marry me as soon as you are twenty; otherwise your being here with me, and by appointment too, may appear strange—even equivocal—to her.”

“As I know that Cynthia is engaged to another man, you can hardly expect me to believe what you say, Mr. Preston.”