The evening of the day on which Mr. Gibson had been to see the squire, the three women were alone in the drawing-room, for Mr Gibson had had a long round and was not as yet come in. They had had to wait dinner for him; and for some time after his return there was nothing done or said but what related to the necessary business of eating. Mr. Gibson was, perhaps, as well satisfied with his day’s work as any of the four; for this visit to the squire had been weighing on his mind ever since he had heard of the state of things between Roger and Cynthia. He did not like the having to go and tell of a love affair so soon after he had declared his belief that no such thing existed; it was a confession of fallibility which is distasteful to most men. If the squire had not been of so unsuspicious and simple a nature, he might have drawn his own conclusions from the apparent concealment of facts, and felt doubtful of Mr. Gibson’s perfect honesty in the business; but being what he was, there was no danger of such unjust misapprehension. Still Mr. Gibson knew the hot hasty temper he had to deal with, and had expected more violence of language than he really encountered; and the last arrangement by which Cynthia, her mother, and Molly — who, as Mr. Gibson thought to himself, and smiled at the thought, was sure to be a peacemaker and a sweetener of intercourse — were to go to the Hall and make acquaintance with the squire, appeared like a great success to Mr. Gibson, for achieving which he took not a little credit to himself. Altogether, he was more cheerful and bland than he had been for many days; and when he came up into the drawing-room for a few minutes after dinner, before going out again to see his town-patients, he whistled a little under his breath, as he stood with his back to the fire, looking at Cynthia, and thinking that he had not done her justice when describing her to the squire. Now this soft, almost tuneless whistling was to Mr. Gibson what purring is to a cat. He could no more have done it with an anxious case on his mind, or when he was annoyed by human folly, or when he was hungry, than he could have flown through the air. Molly knew all this by instinct, and was happy without being aware of it, as soon as she heard the low whistle which was no music after all. But Mrs. Gibson did not like this trick of her husband’s; it was not refined she thought, not even ‘artistic;’ if she could have called it by this fine word it would have compensated her for the want of refinement. To-night it was particularly irritating to her nerves; but since her conversation with Mr. Gibson about Cynthia’s engagement, she had not felt herself in a sufficiently good position to complain.

Mr. Gibson began — ‘Well, Cynthia; I have seen the squire today, and made a clean breast of it.’

Cynthia looked up quickly, questioning with her eyes; Molly stopped her netting to listen; no one spoke.

‘You’re all to go there on Thursday to lunch; he asked you all, and I promised for you.’

Still no reply; natural, perhaps, but very flat.

‘You’ll be glad of that Cynthia, shan’t you?’ asked Mr. Gibson. ‘It may be a little formidable, but I hope it will be the beginning of a good understanding between you.’

‘Thank you!’ said she, with an effort. ‘But — but won’t it make it public? I do so wish not to have it known, or talked about, not till he comes back or close upon the marriage.’

‘I don’t see how it should make it public,’ said Mr. Gibson. ‘My wife goes to lunch with my friend, and takes her daughters with her — there’s nothing in that, is there?’

‘I am not sure that I shall go,’ put in Mrs. Gibson. She did not know why she said it, for she fully intended to go all the time; but having said it she was bound to stick to it for a little while; and, with such a husband as hers, the hard necessity was sure to fall upon her of having to find a reason for her saying. There it came, quick and sharp.

‘Why not?’ said he, turning round upon her.

‘Oh, because — because I think he ought to have called on Cynthia first; I’ve that sort of sensitiveness I can’t bear to think of her being slighted because she is poor.’

‘Nonsense!’ said Mr. Gibson. ‘I do assure you, no slight whatever was intended. He does not wish to speak about the engagement to anyone — not even to Osborne — that’s your wish, too, is it not, Cynthia? Nor does he intend to mention it to any of you when you go there; but, naturally enough, he wants to make acquaintance with his future daughter-inlaw. If he deviated so much from his usual course as to come calling here —’

‘I am sure I don’t want him to come calling here,’ said Mrs. Gibson, interrupting. ‘He was not so very agreeable the only time he did come. But I am that sort of a character that I cannot put up with any neglect of persons I love, just because they are not smiled upon by fortune.’ She sighed a little ostentatiously as she ended her sentence.

‘Well, then, you won’t go!’ said Mr. Gibson provoked, but not wishing to have a long discussion, especially as he felt his temper going.

‘Do you wish it, Cynthia?’ said Mrs. Gibson, anxious for an excuse to yield.

But her daughter was quite aware of this motive for the question, and replied quietly — ‘Not particularly, mamma. I am quite willing to refuse the invitation.’

‘It is already accepted,’ said Mr. Gibson, almost ready to vow that he would never again meddle in any affair in which women were concerned, which would effectually shut him out from all love affairs for the future. He had been touched by the squire’s relenting, pleased with what he had thought would give others pleasure, and this was the end of it!

‘Oh, do go, Cynthia!’ said Molly, pleading with her eyes as well as her words. ‘Do; I am sure you will like the squire; and it is such a pretty place, and he’ll be so much disappointed.’

‘I should not like to give up my dignity,’ said Cynthia, demurely. ‘And you heard what mamma said!’ It was very malicious of her. She fully intended to go, and was equally sure that her mother was already planning her dress for the occasion in her own mind. Mr Gibson, however, who, surgeon though he was, had never learnt to anatomize a woman’s heart, took it all literally, and was excessively angry both with Cynthia and her mother; so angry that he did not dare to trust himself to speak. He went quickly to the door, intending to leave the room; but his wife’s voice arrested him; she said —

‘My dear, do you wish me to go? if you do, I will put my own feelings on one side.’

‘Of course I do!’ he said, short and stern, and left the room.

‘Then I’ll go!’ said she, in the voice of a victim — those words were meant for him, but he hardly heard them. ‘And we’ll have a fly from the “George,” and get a livery-coat for Thomas, which I’ve long been wanting, only dear Mr. Gibson did not like it, but on an occasion like this............