The illness which he apprehended came upon Molly; not violently or acutely, so that there was any immediate danger to be dreaded; but making a long pull upon her strength, which seemed to lessen day by day, until at last her father feared that she might become a permanent invalid.  There was nothing very decided or alarming to tell Cynthia, and Mrs. Gibson kept the dark side from her in her letters.  ’Molly was feeling the spring weather;’ or ’Molly had been a good deal overdone with her stay at the Hall, and was resting;’ such little sentences told nothing of Molly’s real state.  But then, as Mrs. Gibson said to herself, it would be a pity to disturb Cynthia’s pleasure by telling her much about Molly; indeed there was not much to tell, one day was so like another.  But it so happened that Lady Harriet,—­who came whenever she could to sit awhile with Molly, at first against Mrs. Gibson’s will, and afterwards with her full consent, for reasons of her own—­ Lady Harriet wrote a letter to Cynthia, to which she was urged by Mrs. Gibson.  It fell out in this manner:—­One day, when Lady Harriet was sitting in the drawing-room for a few minutes after she had been with Molly, she said,—­

’Really, Clare, I spend so much time in your house that I am going to establish a work-basket here.  Mary has infected me with her notability, and I am going to work mamma a footstool.  It is to be a surprise; and so if I do it here she will know nothing about it.  Only I cannot match the gold beads I want for the pansies in this dear little town; and Hollingford, who could send me down stars and planets if I asked him, I make no doubt, could no more match beads than—­’

’My dear Lady Harriet! you forget Cynthia!  Think what a pleasure it would be to her to do anything for you.’

’Would it?  Then she shall have plenty of it; but, mind, it is you who have answered for her.  She shall get me some wool too; how good I am to confer so much pleasure on a fellow-creature.  But seriously, do you think I might write and give her a few commissions?  Neither Agnes nor Mary are in town—­’

‘I am sure she would be delighted,’ said Mrs. Gibson, who also took into consideration the reflection of aristocratic honour that would fall upon Cynthia if she had a letter from a Lady Harriet while at Mr. Kirkpatrick’s.  So she gave the address, and Lady Harriet wrote.  All the first part of the letter was taken up with apology and commissions; but then, never doubting but that Cynthia was aware of Molly’s state, she went on to say,—­

’I saw Molly this morning.  Twice I have been forbidden admittance, as she was too ill to see any one out of her own family.  I wish we could begin to perceive a change for the better; but she looks more fading every time, and I fear Mr. Gibson considers it a very anxious case.’

The day but one after this letter was despatched, Cynthia walked into the drawing-room at home with as much apparent composure as if she had left it not an hour before.  Mrs. Gibson was dozing, but believing herself to be reading; she had been with Molly the greater part of the morning, and now after her lunch, and the invalid’s pretence of early dinner, she considered herself entitled to some repose.  She started up as Cynthia came in.