Just at this moment, Molly heard the familiar sound of the click and opening of the front door.  She knew it must be Cynthia; and, conscious of some mysterious reason which made Mrs. Gibson wish to conceal her daughter’s whereabouts from Mr. Preston, and maliciously desirous to baffle him, she rose to leave the room, and meet Cynthia on the stairs; but one of the lost crewels of worsted had entangled itself in her gown and feet, and before she had freed herself of the encumbrance, Cynthia had opened the drawing-room door, and stood in it, looking at her mother, at Molly, at Mr. Preston, but not advancing one step.  Her colour, which had been brilliant the first moment of her entrance, faded away as she gazed; but her eyes—­her beautiful eyes—­usually so soft and grave, seemed to fill with fire, and her brows to contract, as she took the resolution to come forwards and take her place among the three, who were all looking at her with different emotions.  She moved calmly and slowly forwards; Mr. Preston went a step or two to meet her, his hand held out, and the whole expression of his face that of eager delight.

But she took no notice of the outstretched hand, nor of the chair that he offered her.  She sate down on a little sofa in one of the windows, and called Molly to her.

‘Look at my purchases,’ said she.  ’This green ribbon was fourteen-pence a yard, this silk three shillings,’ and so she went on, forcing herself to speak about these trifles as if they were all the world to her, and she had no attention to throw away on her mother and her mother’s visitor.

Mr. Preston took his cue from her.  He, too, talked of the news of the day, the local gossip—­but Molly, who glanced up at him from time to time, was almost alarmed by the bad expression of suppressed anger, almost amounting to vindictiveness, which entirely marred his handsome looks.  She did not wish to look again; and tried rather to back up Cynthia’s efforts at maintaining a separate conversation.  Yet she could not help overhearing Mrs. Gibson’s strain after increased civility, as if to make up for Cynthia’s rudeness, and, if possible, to deprecate his anger.  She talked perpetually, as though her object were to detain him; whereas previous to Cynthia’s return she had allowed frequent pauses in the conversation, as though to give him the opportunity to take his leave.

In the course of the conversation between them the Hamleys came up.  Mrs. Gibson was never unwilling to dwell upon Molly’s intimacy with this county family; and when the latter caught the sound of her own name, her stepmother was saying,—­

’Poor Mrs. Hamley could hardly do without Molly; she quite looked upon her as a daughter, especially towards the last, when, I am afraid, she had a good deal of anxiety.  Mr. Osborne Hamley—­I daresay you have heard—­he did not do so well at college, and they had expected so much —­parents will, you know; but what did it signify? for he had not to earn his living!  I call it a very foolish kind of ambition when a young man has not to go into a profession.’