often set before her by the members of her ladyship’s family, that it took its origin in her state of health. Mrs. Gibson did not exactly mean to visit this one discomfort upon Cynthia, nor did she quite mean to upbraid her daughter for conduct as yet unexplained, and which might have some justification; but, finding her quietly sitting in the drawing-room, she sate down despondingly in her own little easy-chair, and in reply to Cynthia’s quick pleasant greeting of—
“Well, mamma, how are you? We didn’t expect you so early! Let me take off your bonnet and shawl!” she replied dolefully—
“It has not been such a happy visit that I should wish to prolong it.” Her eyes were fixed on the carpet, and her face was as irresponsive to the welcome offered as she could make it.
“What has been the matter?” asked Cynthia, in all good faith.
“You! Cynthia—you! I little thought, when you were born, how I should have to bear to hear you spoken about.”
Cynthia threw back her head, and angry light came into her eyes.
“What business have they with me? How came they to talk about me in any way?”
“Everybody is talking about you; it is no wonder they are. Lord Cumnor is sure to hear about everything always. You should take more care about what you do, Cynthia, if you don’t like being talked about.”
“It rather depends upon what people say,” said Cynthia, affecting a lightness which she did not feel; for she had a prevision of what was coming.
“Well! I don’t like it, at any rate. It is not pleasant for me to hear first of my daughter’s misdoings from Lady Cumnor, and then to be lectured about her, and her flirting, and her jilting, as if I had anything to do with it. I can assure you it has quite spoilt my visit. No! don’t touch my shawl. When I go to my room I can take it myself.”
Cynthia was brought to bay, and sate down; remaining with her mother, who kept sighing ostentatiously from time to time.
“Would you mind telling me what they said? If there are accusations abroad against me, it is as well I should know what they are. Here’s Molly” (as the girl entered the room, fresh from a morning’s walk). “Molly, mamma has come back from the Towers, and my lord and lady have been doing me the honour to talk over my crimes and misdemeanors, and I am asking mamma what they have said. I don’t set up for more virtue than other people; but I can’t make out what an earl and a countess have to do with poor little me.”
“It was not for your sake!” said Mrs. Gibson. “It was for mine. They felt for me, for it is not pleasant to have one’s child’s name in everybody’s mouth.”
“As I said before, that depends upon how it is in everybody’s mouth. If I were going to marry Lord Hollingford, I make no doubt every one would be talking about me, and neither you nor I should mind it in the least.”
“But this is no marriage with Lord Hollingford, so it is nonsense to talk as if it was. They say you’ve gone and engaged yourself to Mr. Preston, and now refuse to marry him; and they call that jilting.”
“Do you wish me to marry him, mamma?” asked Cynthia, her face in a flame, her eyes cast down. Molly stood by, very hot, not fully understanding it; and only kept where she was by the hope of coming in as sweetener or peacemaker, or helper of some kind.