a new character; no longer literary or poetical, or romantic, or critical, he was now full of the last new play, the singers at the opera.  He had the advantage over Mrs. Gibson, who, in fact, only spoke of these things from hearsay, from listening to the talk at the Towers, while Osborne had run up from Cambridge two or three times to hear this, or to see that, wonder of the season.  But she had the advantage over him in greater boldness of invention to eke out her facts; and besides she had more skill in the choice and arrangement of her words, so as to make it appear as if the opinions that were in reality quotations, were formed by herself from actual experience or personal observation; such as, in speaking of the mannerisms of a famous Italian singer, she would ask,—­

’Did you observe her constant trick of heaving her shoulders and clasping her hands together before she took a high note?’—­which was so said as to imply that Mrs. Gibson herself had noticed this trick.  Molly, who had a pretty good idea by this time of how her stepmother had passed the last year of her life, listened with no small bewilderment to this conversation; but at length decided that she must misunderstand what they were saying, as she could not gather up the missing links for the necessity of replying to Roger’s questions and remarks.  Osborne was not the same Osborne he was when with his mother at the hall.  Roger saw her glancing at his brother.

‘You think my brother looking ill?’ said he, lowering his voice.

‘No—­not exactly.’

’He is not well.  Both my father and I are anxious about him.  That run on the Continent did him harm, instead of good; and his disappointment at his examination has told upon him, I’m afraid.’

‘I was not thinking he looked ill; only changed somehow.’

’He says he must go back to Cambridge soon.  Possibly it may do him good; and I shall be off next week.  This is a farewell visit to you, as well as one of congratulation to Mrs. Gibson.’

’Your mother will feel your both going away, won’t she?  But of course young men will always have to live away from home.’

‘Yes,’ he replied.  ’Still she feels it a good deal; and I am not satisfied about her health either.  You will go over and see her sometimes, will you? she is very fond of you.’

‘If I may,’ said Molly, unconsciously glancing at her stepmother.  She had an uncomfortable instinct that, in spite of Mrs. Gibson’s own perpetual flow of words, she could, and did, hear everything that fell from Molly’s lips.

‘Do you want any more books?’ said he.  ’If you do, make a list out, and send it to my mother before I leave, next Tuesday.  After I am gone, there will be no one to go into the library and pick them out.’

After they were gone, Mrs. Gibson began her usual comments on the departed visitors.

’I do like that Osborne Hamley!  What a nice fellow he is!  Somehow, I always do like eldest sons.  He will have the estate, won’t he?  I shall ask your dear papa to encourage him to come about the house.  He will be a very good, very pleasant acquaintance for you and Cynthia.  The other is but a loutish young fellow, to my mind; there is no aristocratic bearing about him.  I suppose he takes after his mother, who is but a parvenue, I’ve heard them say at the Towers.’