When they all came into the full light and repose of the drawing-room, Molly was absorbed in the contemplation of Cynthia's beauty.Perhaps her features were not regular; but the changes in her expressive countenance gave one no time to think of that.Her smile was perfect; her pouting charming;the play of the face was in the mouth.Her eyes were beautifully shaped, but their expression hardly seemed to vary.In colouring she was not unlike her mother; only she had not so much of the red-haired tints in her complexion;and her long-shaped, serious grey eyes were fringed with dark lashes, instead of her mother's insipid flaxen ones.Molly fell in love with her, so to speak, on the instant.She sate there warming her feet and hands, as much at her ease as if she had been there all her life; not particularly attending to her mother - who, all the time, was studying either her or her dress - measuring Molly and Mr Gibson with grave observant looks, as if guessing how she should like them.'There's hot breakfast ready for you in the dining-room, when you are ready for it,' said Mr Gibson.'I'm sure you must want it after your night journey.'
He looked round at his wife, at Cynthia's mother, but she did not seem inclined to leave the warm room again.'Molly will take you to your room, darling,' said she; 'it is near hers, and she has got her things to take off.I'll come down and sit in the dining-room while you are having your breakfast, but I really am afraid of the cold now.' Cynthia rose and followed Molly upstairs.'I'm so sorry there isn't a fire for you,' said Molly, 'but - I suppose it wasn't ordered; and, of course, I don't give any orders.Here is some hot water, though.' 'Stop a minute,' said Cynthia, getting hold of both Molly's hands, and looking steadily into her face, but in such a manner that she did not dislike the inspection.'I think I shall like you.I am go glad! I was afraid I should not.We're all in a very awkward position together, aren't we? I like your father's looks, though.' Molly could not help smiling at the way this was said.Cynthia replied to her smile.'Ah, you may laugh.But I don't know that I am easy to get on with; mamma and I didn't suit when we were last together.But perhaps we are each of us wiser now.Now, please leave me for a quarter of an hour.I don't want anything more.' Molly went into her own room, waiting to show Cynthia down to the dining-room.
Not that, in the moderate-sized house, there was any difficulty in finding the way.A very little trouble in conjecturing would enable a stranger to discover any room.But Cynthia had so captivated Molly, that she wanted to devote herself to the new comer's service.Ever since she had heard of the probability of her having a sister - (she called her a sister, but whether it was a Scotch sister, or a sister à la mode de Brétagne , would have puzzled most people) - Molly had allowed her fancy to dwell much on the idea of Cynthia's coming; and in the short time since they had met, Cynthia's unconscious power of fascination had been exercised upon her.Some people have this power.Of course, its effects are only manifested in the susceptible.A school-girl may be found in every school who attracts and influences all the others, not by her virtues, nor her beauty, nor her sweetness, nor her cleverness, but by something that can neither be described nor reasoned upon.It is the something alluded to in the old lines: - Love me not for comely grace, For my pleasing eye and face; No, nor for my constant heart, - For these may change, and turn to ill, And thus true love may sever.But love me on, and know not why, So hast thou the same reason still To dote upon me ever.' A woman will have this charm, not only over men but over her own sex; it cannot be defined, or rather it is so delicate a mixture of many gifts and qualities that it is impossible to decide on the proportions of each.
