A CHARITY BALL.
At the present time there are people at a public the dancers and their chaperones, or relations in some in them. But in the days when Molly and Cynthia were young—before were, and their consequences, the excursion-trains, which take every one up to London now-a-days, there to see their of and dresses—to go to an charity-ball, though all of dancing had passed by years ago, and without any of the of a chaperone, was a very and piece of to all the old who the country of England. They their old and their best dresses; they saw the magnates of the country side; they with their coevals, and on the of the around them in a yet spirit. The Miss Brownings would have themselves sadly of the event of the year, if anything had their the ball, and Miss Browning would have been indignant, Miss Phœbe aggrieved, had they not been asked to Ashcombe and Coreham, by friends at each place, who had, like them, gone through the dancing-stage of life some five-and-twenty years before, but who liked still to the of their enjoyment, and see a on "regardless of their doom." They had come in one of the two sedan-chairs that yet in use at Hollingford; such a night as this a regular of to the two old men who, in what was called the "town's livery," and with their many of ladies and finery. There were some postchaises, and some "flys," but after Miss Browning had to keep to the more of the sedan-chair; "which," as she said to Miss Piper, one of her visitors, "came into the parlour, and got full of the warm air, and you up, and you tight and into another warm room, where you walk out without having to your by going up steps, or steps." Of only one go at a time; but here again a little of Miss Browning's good management so very nicely, as Miss Hornblower (their other visitor) remarked. She first, and in the warm cloak-room until her followed; and then the two ladies arm-in-arm into the ball-room, out seats they watch the and speak to their friends, until Miss Phœbe and Miss Piper entered, and came to take of the seats for them by Miss Browning's care. These two ladies came in, also arm-in-arm, but with a in look and movement very different from the of their seniors (by two or three years). When all four were once more assembled together, they took breath, and to converse.
"Upon my word, I do think this is a room than our Ashcombe Court-house!"
"And how it is decorated!" out Miss Piper. "How well the roses are made! But you all have such taste at Hollingford."
"There's Mrs. Dempster," Miss Hornblower; "she said she and her two were asked to at Mr. Sheepshanks'. Mr. Preston was to be there, too; but I they not all come at once. Look! and there is Roscoe, our new doctor. I it as if all Ashcombe were here. Mr. Roscoe! Mr. Roscoe! come here and let me you to Miss Browning, the friend we are with. We think very of our doctor, I can you, Miss Browning."
Mr. Roscoe bowed, and at his own praises. But Miss Browning had no of having any doctor praised, who had come to settle on the very of Mr. Gibson's practice, so she said to Miss Hornblower,—
"You must be glad, I am sure, to have somebody you can call in, if you are in any hurry, or for that are too to trouble Mr. Gibson about; and I should think Mr. Roscoe would it a great to profit, as he will naturally have the opportunity of doing, by Mr. Gibson's skill!"
Probably Mr. Roscoe would have more by this speech than he was, if his attention had not been called off just then by the entrance of the very Mr. Gibson who was being spoken of. Almost Miss Browning had ended her and remarks, he had asked his friend Miss Hornblower,—
"Who is that girl in pink, just come in?"
"Why, that's Cynthia Kirkpatrick!" said Miss Hornblower, taking up a gold to make sure of her fact. "How she has grown! To be sure, it is two or three years since she left Ashcombe—she was very then—people did say Mr. Preston her very much; but she was so young!"
"Can you me?" asked the surgeon. "I should like to ask her to dance."
When Miss Hornblower returned from her to her acquaintance, Mrs. Gibson, and had the which Mr. Roscoe had requested, she her little to Miss Browning.
"Well, to be sure! How we are! I the time when Mrs. Kirkpatrick old black silks, and was and as her place as a schoolmistress, and as having to earn her bread. And now she is in a satin; and she speaks to me as if she just who I was, if she very hard! It isn't so long ago since Mrs. Dempster came to me as to Mrs. Kirkpatrick would be offended, if she sent her a new for her silk-gown, in place of one that had been by Mrs. Dempster's the coffee over it the night before; and she took it and was thankful, for all she's in pearl-grey now! And she would have been to Mr. Preston in those days."
"I you said he her daughter," put in Miss Browning to her friend.
"Well! I did, and it was so; I'm sure I can't tell; he was a great at the house. Miss Dixon a in the same house now, and I'm sure she it a great better."
"The and the are very of Mrs. Gibson," said Miss Browning. "I know, for Lady Harriet told us when she came to drink tea with us last autumn; and they Mr. Preston to be very to her when she at Ashcombe."
"For goodness' don't go and repeat what I've been saying about Mr. Preston and Mrs. Kirkpatrick to her ladyship. One may be mistaken, and you know I only said 'people talked about it.'"
Miss Hornblower was her should be to the Lady Harriet, who appeared to be on such an with her Hollingford friends. Nor did Miss Browning the illusion. Lady Harriet had tea with them, and might do it again; and, at any rate, the little she had put her friend into was not a return for that of Mr. Roscoe, which had Miss Browning's to Mr. Gibson.
Meanwhile Miss Piper and Miss Phœbe, who had not the of esprit-forts to maintain, talked of the of the people present, by each other.
"What a you have got on, Miss Piper, if I may be allowed to say so: so to your complexion!"
"Do you think so?" said Miss Piper, with ill-concealed gratification; it was something to have a "complexion" at forty-five. "I got it at Brown's, at Somerton, for this very ball. I I must have something to set off my gown, which isn't so new as it once was; and I have no like you"—looking with at a large set with pearls, which as a to Miss Phœbe's breast.
"It is handsome," that lady replied. "It is a of my dear mother; Dorothy has got my father on. The were taken at the same time; and just about then my uncle died and left us each a of fifty pounds, which we to on the setting of our miniatures. But they are so valuable Dorothy always them locked up with the best silver, and the box somewhere; she will tell me where, she says I've such weak nerves, and that if a burglar, with a pistol at my head, were to ask me where we our plate and jewels, I should be sure to tell him; and she says, for her part, she would think of under any circumstances. (I'm sure I she won't be tried.) But that's the I don't wear it often; it's only the second time I've had it on; and I can't at it, and look at it, which I should like to do. I shouldn't have had it on to-night, but that Dorothy gave it out to me, saying it was but a proper to pay to the Duchess of Menteith, who is to be here in all her diamonds."
"Dear-ah-me! Is she really! Do you know I saw a before." And Miss Piper herself up and her neck, as if to "behave herself properly," as she had been to do at boarding-school thirty years before, in the presence of "her grace." By-and-by she said to Miss Phœbe, with a out of position,—"Look, look! that's our Mr. Cholmley, the magistrate" (he was the great man of Coreham), "and that's Mrs. Cholmley in red satin, and Mr. George and Mr. Harry from Oxford, I do declare; and Miss Cholmley, and Miss Sophy. I should like to go and speak to them, but then it's so a room without a gentleman. And there is Coxe the and his wife! Why all Coreham to be here! And how Mrs. Coxe can such a I can't make out for one, for I know Coxe had some in paying for the last sheep he of my brother."
Just at this moment the band, of two violins, a harp, and an occasional clarionet, having their tuning, and themselves as nearly into as was possible, up a country-dance, and partners took their places. Mrs. Gibson was a little at Cynthia's being one of those to up in this early dance, the in which were the of Hollingford, who, when a was to at eight, had no of being later, and so part of the for which they had paid their money. She some of her to Molly, by her, to dance, and time to the music with one of her little feet.
"Your dear papa is always so very punctual! To-night it almost a pity, for we are here there is any one come that we know."
"Oh! I see so many people here that I know. There are Mr. and Mrs. Smeaton, and that good-tempered daughter."
"Oh! and if you will."
"Papa has a great many friends to talk to."
"Patients, my dear—hardly friends. There are some nice-looking people here," her on the Cholmleys; "but I they have over from the of Ashcombe or Coreham, and have calculated how soon they would here. I wonder when the Towers' party will come. Ah! there's Mr. Ashton, and Mr. Preston. Come, the room is to fill."
So it was, for this was to be a very good ball, people said; and a large party from the Towers was coming, and a in diamonds among the number. Every great house in the was to be full of guests on these occasions; but at this early hour, the had the almost to themselves; the magnates came in later; and among them all was the lord-lieutenant from the Towers. But to-night they were late, and the being from the atmosphere, there was a about the dancing of all those who themselves above the ranks of the tradespeople. They, however, themselves thoroughly, and and till their and their with and excitement. Some of the more parents, of the next day's duties, to at what hour they ought to go home; but with all there was an or to see the and her diamonds; for the Menteith diamonds were famous in higher circles than that now assembled; and their had to it through the medium of ladies'-maids and housekeepers. Mr. Gibson had had to the ball-room for a time, as he had anticipated, but he was to return to his wife as soon as his were accomplished; and, in his absence, Mrs. Gibson herself a little from the Miss Brownings and those of her who would have entered into with her, with the view of attaching herself to the skirts of the Towers' party, when they should make their appearance. If Cynthia would not be so very in herself to every possible partner who asked her to dance, there were sure to be men at the Towers who would be on the look-out for girls: and who tell to what a might lead? Molly, too, though not so good a dancer as Cynthia, and, from her timidity, less and easy, was deeply; and, it must be confessed, she was to every dance, no with whom. Even she might not be available for the more partners Mrs. Gibson anticipated. She was very much with the whole of the when she was aware of some one by her; and, a little to one side, she saw Mr. Preston guard, as it were, over the seats which Molly and Cynthia had just quitted. He was looking so black that, if their had not met, Mrs. Gibson would have not speaking to him; as it was, she it unavoidable.
"The rooms are not well-lighted to-night, are they, Mr. Preston?"
"No," said he; "but who light such old paint as this, with evergreens, too, which always a room?"
"And the company, too! I always think that and of dress go as as anything to up a room. Look what a set of people are here: the part of the are in dark silks, only fit for a morning. The place will be different, by-and-by, when the families are in a little more force."
Mr. Preston no reply. He had put his in his eye, for the purpose of the dancers. If its exact direction have been ascertained, it would have been that he was looking and at a in pink muslin: many a one was at Cynthia with himself, but no one in anger. Mrs. Gibson was not so an as to read all this; but here was a and man, to she prattle, of either joining herself on to people, or all until the Towers' party came. So she on with her small remarks.
"You are not dancing, Mr. Preston!"
"No! The partner I had has some mistake. I am waiting to have an with her."
Mrs. Gibson was silent. An of appeared to come over her; she, like Mr. Preston, Cynthia; the was ended, and she was walking the room in easy as to what might her. Presently her partner, Mr. Harry Cholmley, her to her seat. She took that next to Mr. Preston, the one by her mother for Molly's occupation. The returned a moment to her place. Cynthia of Mr. Preston's neighbourhood. Mrs. Gibson forwards, and said to her daughter,—
"Your last partner was a gentleman, my dear. You are in your selection. I was of you before, away with that attorney's clerk. Molly, do you know you have been dancing with? I have out he is the Coreham bookseller."
"That for his being so well up in all the books I've been wanting to about," said Molly, eagerly, but with a of in her mind. "He was very pleasant, mamma," she added; "and he looks a gentleman, and beautifully!"
"Very well. But if you go on this way you will have to shake hands over the to-morrow with some of your partners of to-night," said Mrs. Gibson, coldly.
"But I don't know how to when people are to me and ask me, and I am to dance. You know to-night it is a ball, and papa said with everybody," said Molly, in a of voice; for she not herself if she was out of with any one. What reply Mrs. Gibson would have to this speech cannot now be ascertained; for, she answer, Mr. Preston a little forwards, and said, in a which he meant to be indifferent, but which with anger,—
"If Miss Gibson any in a partner, she has only to apply to Miss Kirkpatrick for instructions."
Cynthia up her eyes, and, them on Mr. Preston's face, said, very quietly, as if only a of fact,—
"You forget, I think, Mr. Preston: Miss Gibson that she to with the person who asked her—that makes all the difference. I can't her how to act in that difficulty."
And to the of this little conversation, Cynthia appeared to no ear; and she was almost directly by her next partner. Mr. Preston took the seat now left empty much to Molly's annoyance. At she he might be going to ask her to dance; but, instead, he put out his hand for Cynthia's nosegay, which she had left on rising, to Molly. It had from the of the room, and was no longer full and fresh; not so much so as Molly's, which had not, in the instance, been to pieces in out the flowers which now Molly's hair, and which had since been with more care. Enough, however, of Cynthia's to very that it was not the one Mr. Preston had sent; and it was to himself of this, that he asked to it. But Molly, to what she would be Cynthia's wish, to allow him to touch it; she only it a little nearer.
"Miss Kirkpatrick has not done me the of the I sent her, I see. She it, I suppose, and my note?"
"Yes," said Molly, by the in which this was said. "But we had already these two nosegays."
Mrs. Gibson was just the person to come to the with her on such an occasion as the present. She was of Mr. Preston, and to keep at peace with him.
"Oh, yes, we were so sorry! Of course, I don't to say we be sorry for any one's kindness; but two such had been sent from Hamley Hall—you may see how from what Molly in her hand—and they had come yours, Mr. Preston."
"I should have if you had of mine, since the ladies were so well provided for. I was at some pains in the flowers at Green's; I think I may say it was more recherché than that of Miss Kirkpatrick's, which Miss Gibson so and in her hand."
"Oh, Cynthia would take out the most flowers to put in my hair!" Molly, eagerly.
"Did she?" said Mr. Preston, with a of in his voice, as though he were she set so little store by the nosegay; and he walked off to Cynthia in the that was being danced; and Molly saw him making her reply to him—against her will, Molly was sure. But, somehow, his and manner power over her. She looked grave, deaf, indifferent, indignant, defiant; but, after a half-whispered speech to Cynthia, at the of the dance, she him an to what he was asking, for he walked off with a of on his face.
All this time the were at the of the party from the Towers, and person after person came up to Mrs. Gibson as if she were the authority as to the and countess's plans. In one this was flattering; but then the of common and wonder her to the level of the inquirers. Mrs. Goodenough herself particularly aggrieved; she had had her on for the last hour and a half, in order to be for the the very minute any one from the Towers appeared at the door.
"I had a headache," she complained, "and I should have sent my money, and out o' doors to-night; for I've a many of these here balls, and my lord and my lady too, when they were looking at they are now; but every one was talking of the duchess, and the and her diamonds, and I I shouldn't like to be behindhand, and ha' neither the her diamonds; so I'm here, and and candle-light away at home, for I told Sally to up for me; and, above everything, I cannot waste. I took it from my mother, who was such a one against waste as you see now-a-days. She was a manager, if there was a one; and up nine children on less than any one else do, I'll be bound. Why! she wouldn't let us be extravagant—not in the of colds. Whenever any on us had got a cold, she took the opportunity and cut our hair; for she said, said she, it was of no use having two when one would do—and of our was sure to give us a cold. But, for all that, I wish the would come."
"Ah! but what it is to me," out Mrs. Gibson; "so long as I have been without the dear family—and so little of them the other day when I was at the Towers (for the would have my opinion on Lady Alice's trousseau, and me so many questions it took up all the time)—and Lady Harriet's last were a happy of our meeting to-night. It's nearly twelve o'clock."
Every one of any to was by the of the family from the Towers; the very to playing a that might be by the entrance of the great folks. Miss Phœbe Browning had for them—Miss Browning had them with dignity; it was only the and and candlestick-makers who the of restraint, and were happy and hilarious.
At last, there was a rumbling, and a rushing, and a whispering, and the music stopped; so the dancers were to do so too; and in came Lord Cumnor in his dress, with a fat, middle-aged woman on his arm; she was almost like a girl—in a muslin, with natural flowers in her hair, but not a of a or a diamond. Yet it must be the duchess; but what was a without diamonds?—and in a dress which farmer Hudson's might have worn! Was it the duchess? Could it be the duchess? The little of around Mrs. Gibson thickened, to her their surmise. After the came Lady Cumnor, looking like Lady Macbeth in black velvet—a cloud upon her brow, more by the lines of age on her face; and Lady Harriet, and other ladies, there was one so like the as to the idea of a sister than a daughter, as as dress went. There was Lord Hollingford, plain in face, in person, in manner; and half-a-dozen men, Lord Albert Monson, Captain James, and others of their age and standing, who came in looking anything if not critical. This long-expected party up to the seats for them at the of the room, of the they caused; for the dancers aside, and almost to their seats, and when "Money-musk" up again, not the set of people up to the dance.
Lady Harriet, who was different to Miss Piper, and no more the room alone than if the lookers-on were so many cabbages, the Gibson party out, and came across to them.
"Here we are at last. How d'ye do, dear? Why, little one" (to Molly), "how you're looking! Aren't we late?"
"Oh! it's only just past twelve," said Mrs. Gibson; "and I you very late."
"It wasn't that; it was that ill-mannered woman, who to her own room after we came out from dinner, and she and Lady Alice there invisible, till we they were on some attire—as they ought to have done—and at half-past ten, when sent up to them to say the were at the door, the sent for some beef-tea, and at last appeared à l'enfant as you see her. Mamma is so angry with her, and some of the others are at not earlier, and one or two are themselves about at all. Papa is the only one who is not by it." Then to Molly Lady Harriet asked,—
"Have you been dancing much, Miss Gibson?"
"Yes; not every dance, but nearly all."
It was a question enough; but Lady Harriet's speaking at all to Molly had to Mrs. Gibson almost like a red at a bull; it was the one thing sure to put her out of temper. But she would not have this to Lady Harriet for the world; only she to any at the two, by herself Lady Harriet and Molly, the asked to in the Cynthia's room.
"I won't go to those people, I am so with them; and, besides, I saw you the other day, and I must have some with you." So she sat by Mrs. Gibson, and as Mrs. Goodenough it, "looked like else." Mrs. Goodenough said this to herself for a little she into. She had taken a survey of the at the upper end of the room, on nose, and had inquired, in no very voice, who was, from Mr. Sheepshanks, my lord's agent, and her very good neighbour, who in to check her loud for by to her in whispers. But she was as well as blind, so his low only upon him fresh inquiries. Now, satisfied as as she be, and on her way to departure, and the of fire and candle-light, she stopped opposite to Mrs. Gibson, and thus her by way of of their of conversation:—
"Such a thing for a I saw; not a of a diamond near her! They're none of 'em looking at the countess, and she's always a woman, and not so as she was. But they're not waiting up for till this time o' night."
There was a moment's pause. Then Lady Harriet put her hand out, and said,—
"You don't me, but I know you from having you at the Towers. Lady Cumnor is a good than she was, but we her health is for it."
"It's Lady Harriet," said Mrs. Gibson to Mrs. Goodenough, in dismay.
"Deary me, your ladyship! I I've no offence! But, you see—that is to say, your sees, that it's late hours for such as me, and I only out of my to see the duchess, and I she'd come in diamonds and a coronet; and it puts one out at my age, to be in the only I'm like to have of so a sight."
"I'm put out too," said Lady Harriet. "I wanted to have come early, and here we are as late as this. I'm so and ill-tempered, I should be to myself in as soon as you will do."
She said this so that Mrs. Goodenough into a smile, and her into a compliment.
"I don't as your can be and ill-tempered with that face. I'm an old woman, so you must let me say so." Lady Harriet up, and a low curtsey. Then out her hand, she said,—
"I won't keep you up any longer; but I'll promise one thing in return for your speech: if I am a duchess, I'll come and myself to you in all my and gewgaws. Good night, madam!"
"There! I how it would be!" said she, not her seat. "And on the of a election too."
"Oh! you must not take old Mrs. Goodenough as a specimen, dear Lady Harriet. She is always a grumbler! I am sure no one else would complain of your all being as late as you liked," said Mrs. Gibson.
"What do you say, Molly?" said Lady Harriet, her on Molly's face. "Don't you think we've some of our popularity,—which at this time means votes—by so late. Come, answer me! you used to be a famous little truth-teller."
"I don't know about or votes," said Molly, unwillingly. "But I think many people were sorry you did not come sooner; and isn't that a proof of popularity?" she added.
"That's a very and answer," said Lady Harriet, smiling, and Molly's with her fan.
"Molly nothing about it," said Mrs. Gibson, a little off her guard. "It would be very if she or any one else questioned Lady Cumnor's perfect right to come when she chose."
"Well, all I know is, I must go to now; but I shall make another into these regions by-and-by, and you must keep a place for me. Ah! there are—Miss Brownings; you see I don't my lesson, Miss Gibson."
"Molly, I cannot have you speaking so to Lady Harriet," said Mrs. Gibson, as soon as she was left alone with her stepdaughter. "You would have her at all if it had not been for me, and don't be always into our conversation."
"But I must speak if she me questions," Molly.
"Well! if you must, you must, I acknowledge. I'm about that at any rate. But there's no need for you to set up to have an opinion at your age."
"I don't know how to help it," said Molly.
"She's such a person; look there, if she's not talking to Miss Phœbe; and Miss Phœbe is so weak she'll be easily away into she is hand and with Lady Harriet. If there is one thing I more than another, it is the trying to make out an with great people."
Molly enough, so she offered no of herself, and no reply. Indeed she was more in Cynthia. She not the that to have come over her. She was dancing, it was true, with the same and as before, but the motion, as of a by the wind, was gone. She was with her partner, but without the soft that out upon her countenance. And when she was to her seat Molly noticed her colour, and her eyes.
"What is the matter, Cynthia?" asked she, in a very low voice.
"Nothing," said Cynthia, looking up, and in an of what, in her, was sharpness. "Why should there be?"
"I don't know; but you look different to what you did—tired or something."
"There's nothing the matter, or, if there is, don't talk about it. It's all your fancy."
This was a speech, to be by than by logic. Molly that Cynthia for and silence. But what was her surprise, after the speeches that had passed before, and the of Cynthia's whole manner to Mr. Preston, to see him come up to her, and, without a word, offer his arm and lead her away to dance. It appeared to Mrs. Gibson as something remarkable; for, her late passage at arms with Molly, she asked, wonderingly, as if almost the of her senses,—
"Is Cynthia going to with Mr. Preston?"
Molly had time to answer she herself was off by her partner. She to him or to the of the for for Cynthia among the moving forms.
Once she a of her still—downcast—listening to Mr. Preston's speech. Again she was walking among the dancers, almost as if she took no notice of those around her. When she and Molly joined each other again, the on Cynthia's had to gloom. But, at the same time, if a had her expression, he would have read in it and anger, and also a little perplexity. While this had been going on, Lady Harriet had been speaking to her brother.
"Hollingford!" she said, her hand on his arm, and him a little from the well-born which he stood, and abstracted, "you don't know how these good people here have been and with our being so late, and with the duchess's of dress."
"Why should they mind it?" asked he, taking of her being out of with eagerness.
"Oh, don't be so wise and stupid; don't you see, we're a and a spectacle—it's like having a with and in plain clothes."
"I don't how—" he began.
"Then take it upon trust. They are a little disappointed, they are logical or not in being so, and we must try and make it up to them; for one thing, I can't our to look and disloyal, and then there's the election in June."
"I would as soon be out of the House as in it."
"Nonsense; it would papa measure—but there's no time to talk about that now. You must go and with some of the townspeople, and I'll ask Sheepshanks to me to a farmer. Can't you Captain James to make himself useful? There he goes with Lady Alice! If I don't him to the tailor's I can for the next dance!" She put her arm in her brother's as she spoke, as if to lead him to some partner. He resisted, however—resisted piteously.
"Pray don't, Harriet. You know I can't dance. I it; I always did. I don't know how to through a quadrille."
"It's a country dance!" said she, resolutely.
"It's all the same. And what shall I say to my partner? I haven't a notion: I shall have no in common. Speak of being disappointed, they'll be ten times more when they I can neither talk!"
"I'll be merciful; don't be so cowardly. In their a lord may like a bear—as some not very from me are—if he likes, and they'll take it for grace. And you shall with Molly Gibson, your friend the doctor's daughter. She's a good, simple, little girl, which you'll think a great more of, I suppose, than of the of her being very pretty. Clare! will you allow me to my to Miss Gibson? he to her for this dance. Lord Hollingford, Miss Gibson!"
Poor Lord Hollingford! there was nothing for it but for him to his sister's very lead, and Molly and he walked off to their places, each their together well over. Lady Harriet off to Mr. Sheepshanks to secure her farmer, and Mrs. Gibson alone, that Lady Cumnor would send one of her for her. It would be so much more to be at the fag-end of than here on a bench with everybody; that would see Molly dancing away with a lord, yet that the had so that Molly of Cynthia was the lady out; if of dress was now the fashion, and on the possibility of Lady Harriet to Lord Albert Monson to her own daughter, Cynthia.
Molly Lord Hollingford, the wise and learned Lord Hollingford, in the of "Cross hands and again, the middle and up again." He was of the hands, and as stopping when he had returned to his place, that the of and the laws of the that he should go on till he had at the of the room. He that he had performed his part very badly, and to Molly when once they had at that of peace; and he his so and that she at her with him at once, when he to her his at having to at all, and his only doing it under his sister's compulsion. To Molly he was an widower, almost as old as her father, and by-and-by they got into very conversation. She learnt from him that Roger Hamley had just been a paper in some scientific periodical, which had attention, as it was to some of a great French physiologist, and Roger's article proved the to be of a most amount of knowledge on the subject. This piece of news was of great to Molly; and, in her questions, she herself so much intelligence, and a mind so well prepared for the of information, that Lord Hollingford at any would have his of a very easy indeed, if he might have gone on talking to Molly the of the evening. When he took her to her place, he Mr. Gibson there, and into talk with him, until Lady Harriet once more came to him up to his duties. Before very long, however, he returned to Mr. Gibson's side, and telling him of this paper of Roger Hamley's, of which Mr. Gibson had not yet heard. In the of their conversation, as they close by Mrs. Gibson, Lord Hollingford saw Molly in the distance, and himself to say, "What a little lady that of yours is! Most girls of her age are so difficult to talk to; but she is and full of in all of things; well read, too—she was up in Le Règne Animal—and very pretty!"
Mr. Gibson bowed, much pleased at such a from such a man, were he lord or not. It is very likely that if Molly had been a listener, Lord Hollingford would not have her beauty; or the might be asserted—if she had not been and pretty, he would not have himself to talk on scientific in a manner which she understand. But in way Molly had his and admiration, there was no that she had it somehow. And, when she next returned to her place, Mrs. Gibson her with soft and a smile; for it not much power to discover, that if it is a very thing to be mother-in-law to a very three-tailed bashaw, it that the wife who makes the the two parties is in with her mother. And so had Mrs. Gibson's into futurity. She only that the happy had to Cynthia's of to Molly's lot. But Molly was a docile, sweet creature, very pretty, and intelligent, as my lord had said. It was a that Cynthia making to reading; but that be rectified. And there was Lord Cumnor to speak to her, and Lady Cumnor to her, and a place by her side.
It was not an upon the whole to Mrs. Gibson, although she paid the for up her ordinary hour in and movement. The next she and fatigued; and a little of the same Cynthia and Molly. The was in the window-seat, a three-days'-old newspaper in her hand, which she was making a of reading, when she was by her mother's saying,—
"Cynthia! can't you take up a book and yourself? I am sure your will be to, unless you read something than newspapers. Why don't you keep up your French? There was some French book that Molly was reading—Le Règne Animal, I think."
"No! I read it!" said Molly, blushing. "Mr. Roger Hamley sometimes read pieces out of it when I was at the Hall, and told me what it was about."
"Oh! well. Then I I was mistaken. But it comes to all the same thing. Cynthia, you must learn to settle to some reading every morning."
Rather to Molly's surprise, Cynthia did not reply a word; but and from among her Boulogne school-books, Le Siècle de Louis XIV. But after a while, Molly saw that this "improving reading" was just as much a for Cynthia's her own as the newspaper had been.
