had so loved, and called by the name of his little dead sister.  And as she thought of the tender love Mrs. Hamley had borne her she cried the more, for the vanishing of such love for her off the face of the earth.  Suddenly the drawing-room door opened, and some one was heard coming upstairs; it was Cynthia’s step.  Molly hastily wiped her eyes, and stood up and tried to look unconcerned; it was all she had time to do before Cynthia, after a little pause at the closed door, had knocked; and on an answer being given, had said, without opening the door,—­ ’Molly!  Mr. Roger Hamley is here, and wants to wish you good-by before he goes.’  Then she went downstairs again, as if anxious just at that moment to avoid even so short a tete-a-tete with Molly.  With a gulp and a fit of resolution, as a child makes up its mind to swallow a nauseous dose of medicine, Molly went instantly downstairs.

Roger was talking earnestly to Mrs. Gibson in the bay of the window when Molly entered; Cynthia was standing near, listening, but taking no part in the conversation.  Her eyes were downcast, and she did not look up as Molly drew shyly near.

Roger was saying,—­’I could never forgive myself if I had accepted a pledge from her.  She shall be free until my return; but the hope, the words, her sweet goodness, have made me happy beyond description.  Oh, Molly!’ suddenly becoming aware of her presence, and turning to her, and taking her hand in both of his,—­’I think you have long guessed my secret, have you not?  I once thought of speaking to you before I left, and confiding it all to you.  But the temptation has been too great, I have told Cynthia how fondly I love her, as far as words can tell; and she says—­’ then he looked at Cynthia with passionate delight and seemed to forget in that gaze that he had left his sentence to Molly half finished.

Cynthia did not seem inclined to repeat her saying, whatever it was, but her mother spoke for her.

’My dear sweet girl values your love as it ought to be valued, I am sure.  And I believe,’ looking at Cynthia and Roger with intelligent archness, ’I could tell tales as to the cause of her indisposition in the spring.’

‘Mother,’ said Cynthia suddenly, ’you know it was no such thing.  Pray don’t invent stories about me.  I have engaged myself to Mr Roger Hamley, and that is enough.’

‘Enough! more than enough!’ said Roger.  ’I will not accept your pledge.  I am bound, but you are free.  I like to feel bound, it makes me happy and at peace, but with all the chances involved in the next two years, you must not shackle yourself by promises.’

Cynthia did not speak at once; she was evidently revolving something in her own mind.  Mrs. Gibson took up the word.

’You are very generous, I am sure.  Perhaps it will be better not to mention it.’

‘I would much rather have it kept a secret,’ said Cynthia, interrupting.