him very charming. I believe I cared for him when he offered all those months ago, but I tried to think I didn’t; only sometimes I really was so unhappy, I thought I must put an iron band round my heart to keep it from breaking, like the Faithful John of the German story—do you remember, Molly?—how, when his master came to his crown and his fortune and his lady-love, after innumerable trials and disgraces, and was driving away from the church where he’d been married in a coach-and-six, with Faithful John behind, the happy couple heard three great cracks in succession, and, on inquiring, they were the iron bands round his heart, that Faithful John had worn all during the time of his master’s tribulation to keep it from breaking.”

In the evening Mr. Henderson came. Molly had been very curious to see him; and, when she saw him, she was not sure whether she liked him or not. He was handsome, without being conceited; gentlemanly, without being foolishly fine. He talked easily, and never said a silly thing. He was perfectly well-appointed, yet never seemed to have given a thought to his dress. He was good-tempered and kind; not without some of the cheerful flippancy of repartee which belonged to his age and profession, and which his age and profession are apt to take for wit. But he wanted something in Molly’s eyes—at any rate, in this first interview, and in her heart of hearts she thought him rather commonplace. But of course she said nothing of this to Cynthia, who was evidently as happy as she could be. Mrs. Gibson, too, was in the seventh heaven of ecstasy, and spoke but little; but what she did say expressed the highest sentiments in the finest language. Mr. Gibson was not with them for long; but, while he was there, he was evidently studying the unconscious Mr. Henderson with his dark penetrating eyes. Mr. Henderson behaved exactly as he ought to have done to everybody: respectful to Mr. Gibson, deferential to Mrs. Gibson, friendly to Molly, devoted to Cynthia.

The next time Mr. Gibson found Molly alone, he began— “Well! and how do you like the new relation that is to be?”

“It’s difficult to say. I think he’s very nice in all his bits, but— rather dull on the whole.”

“I think him perfection,” said Mr. Gibson, to Molly’s surprise; but in an instant afterwards she saw that he had been speaking ironically. He went on—“I don’t wonder she preferred him to Roger Hamley. Such scents! such gloves! And then his hair and cravat!”

“Now, papa, you’re not fair. He’s a great deal more than that. One could see that he had very good feeling; and he’s very handsome, and very much attached to her.”

“So was Roger. However, I must confess I shall be only too glad to have her married. She’s girl who’ll always have some love affair on hand, and will always be apt to slip through a man’s fingers if he doesn’t look sharp; as I was saying to Roger”—

“You have seen him, then, since he was here?”

“Met him in the street.”

“How was he?”

“I don’t suppose he’d be going through the pleasantest thing in the world; but he’ll get over it before long. He spoke with sense and resignation, and didn’t say much about it; but one could see that he was feeling it pretty sharply. He’s had three months to think it over, remember. The Squire, I should guess, is showing more indignation. He is boiling over, that any one should reject his son. The enormity of the sin never seems to have been apparent to him till now, when he sees how Roger is affected by it. Indeed, with the exception of myself, I don’t know one reasonable father; eh, Molly?”

Whatever else Mr. Henderson might be, he was an impatient lover; he wanted to marry Cynthia directly—next week—the week after; at any rate before the long vacation, so that they could go abroad at once.