'You forget how I detest Mr Preston!' said Cynthia.'It was that, more than any excess of love for Roger, that made me thankful to be at least as securely pledged to some one else.He did not want to call it an engagement, but I did; because it gave me the feeling of assurance that I was free from Mr Preston.And so I am! all but these letters.Oh! if you can but make him take back his abominable money, and get me my letters.Then we would bury it all in oblivion, and he could marry somebody else, and Iwould marry Roger, and no one would be the wiser.After all it was only what people call "youthful folly." And you may tell Mr Preston that as soon as he makes my letters public, shows them to your father or anything, I'll go away from Hollingford, and never come back -- '
Loaded with many such messages, which she felt that she should never deliver, not really knowing what she should say, hating the errand, not satisfied with Cynthia's manner of speaking about her relations to Roger, oppressed with shame and complicity in conduct which appeared to her deceitful, yet willing to bear all and brave all, if she could once set Cynthia in a straight path - in a clear space, and almost more pitiful to her friend's great distress and possible disgrace, than able to give her that love which involves perfect sympathy, Molly set out on her walk towards the appointed place.It was a cloudy blustering day, and the noise of the blowing wind among the nearly leafless branches of the great trees filled her ears, as she passed through the park-gates and entered the avenue.She walked quickly, instinctively wishing to get her blood up, and have no time for thought.But there was a bend in the avenue about a quarter of a mile from the lodge; after that bend it was a straight line up to the great house, now emptied of its inhabitants.Molly did not like going quite out of sight of the lodge, and she stood facing it, close by the trunk of one of the trees.Presently she heard a step coming over the grass.It was Mr Preston.
He saw a woman's figure, half-behind the trunk of a tree, and made no doubt that it was Cynthia.But when he came nearer, almost close, the figure turned round, and, instead of the brilliantly coloured face of Cynthia, he met the pale resolved look of Molly.She did not speak to greet him, but though he felt sure from the general aspect of pallor and timidity that she was afraid of him, her steady grey eyes met his with courageous innocence.
'Is Cynthia unable to come?' asked he, perceiving that she expected him.
'I did not know you thought that you should meet her,' said Molly, a little surprised.In her simplicity she had believed that Cynthia had named that it was she, Molly Gibson, who would meet Mr Preston at a given time and place; but Cynthia had been too worldly-wise for that, and had decoyed him thither by a vaguely worded note, which, while avoiding actual falsehood, had led him to believe that she herself would give him the meeting.
'She said she should be here,' said Mr Preston, extremely annoyed at being entrapped as he now felt that he had been, into an interview with Miss Gibson.Molly hesitated a little before she spoke.He was determined not to break the silence; as she had intruded herself into the affair, she should find her situation as awkward as possible.
'At any rate she sent me here to meet you,' said Molly.'She has told me exactly how matters stand between you and her.'
'Has she?' sneered he.'She is not always the most open or reliable person in the world!'
Molly reddened.She perceived the impertinence of the tone; and her temper was none of the coolest.But she mastered herself and gained courage by so doing.
'You should not speak so of the person you profess to wish to have for your wife.But putting all that aside, you have some letters of hers that she wishes to have back again.'
'I dare say.'
'And that you have no right to keep.'
'No legal, or no moral right? which do you mean?'
'I do not know; simply you have no right at all, as a gentleman, to keep a girl's letters when she asks for them back again, much less to hold them over her as a threat.'
'I see you do know all, Miss Gibson,' said he, changing his manner to one of more respect.'At least she has told you her story from her point of view, her side; now you must hear mine.She promised me as solemnly as ever woman -- '
'She was not a woman, she was only a girl, barely sixteen.'
'Old enough to know what she was doing; but I'll call her a girl if you like.She promised me solemnly to be my wife, making the one stipulation of secrecy, and a certain period of waiting; she wrote me letters repeating this promise, and confidential enough to prove that she considered herself bound to me by such an implied relation.I don't give in to humbug - Idon't set myself up as a saint - and in most ways I can look after my own interests pretty keenly; you know enough of her position as a penniless girl, and at that time, with no influential connections to take the place of wealth, and help me on in the world, it was as sincere and unworldly a passion as ever man felt; she must say so herself.I might have married two or three girls with plenty of money; one of them was handsome enough, and not at all reluctant.'
Molly interrupted him; she was chafed at the conceit of his manner.
'I beg your pardon, but I do not want to hear accounts of young ladies whom you might have married; I come here simply on behalf of Cynthia, who does not like you, and who does not wish to marry you.'
'Well, then I must make her "like" me, as you call it.She did "like"me once, and made promises which she will find it requires the consent of two people to break.I don't despair of making her love me as much as ever she did, according to her letters, at least, when we are married.'
'She will never marry you,' said Molly, firmly.
'Then if she ever honours any one else with her preference, he shall be allowed the perusal of her letters to me.'
