‘Have you?’ said she, looking up again.  ’At Cambridge?  You must be very fond of Molly!’

’Yes, I am.  She was with us so long; and at such a time!  I look upon her almost as a sister.’

’And she is very fond of all of you.  I seem to know you all from hearing her talk about you so much.—­All of you!’ said she, laying an emphasis on ‘all’ to show that it included the dead as well as the living.  Roger was silent for a minute or two.

’I didn’t know you, even by hearsay.  So you mustn’t wonder that I was a little afraid.  But as soon as I saw you, I knew how it must be; and it was such a relief!’

‘Cynthia,’ said Mrs. Gibson, who thought that the younger son had had quite his share of low, confidential conversation, ’come here, and sing that little French ballad to Mr. Osborne Hamley.’

‘Which do you mean, mamma?  “Tu t’en repentiras, Colin"?’

‘Yes; such a pretty, playful little warning to young men,’ said Mrs Gibson, smiling up at Osborne.  ’The refrain is—­

    “Tu t’en repentiras, Colin,
     Tu t’en repentiras,
     Car si tu prends une femme, Colin,
     Tu t’en repentiras.”

The advice may apply very well when there is a French wife in the case; but not, I am sure, to an Englishman who is thinking of an English wife.’

This choice of a song was exceedingly mal-apropos, had Mrs Gibson but known it.  Osborne and Roger knowing that the wife of the former was a Frenchwoman, and, conscious of each other’s knowledge, felt doubly awkward, while Molly was as much confused as though she herself were secretly married.  However, Cynthia carolled the saucy ditty out, and her mother smiled at it, in total ignorance of any application it might have.  Osborne had instinctively gone to stand behind Cynthia, as she sate at the piano, so as to be ready to turn over the leaves of her music if she required it.  He kept his hands in his pockets and his eyes fixed on her fingers; his countenance clouded with gravity at all the merry quips which she so playfully sang.  Roger looked grave as well, but was much more at his ease than his brother; indeed, he was half-amused by the awkwardness of the situation.  He caught Molly’s troubled eyes and heightened colour, and he saw that she was feeling this contretemps more seriously than she needed to do.  He moved to a seat by her, and half whispered, ‘Too late a warning, is it not?’

Molly looked up at him as he leant towards her, and replied in the same tone,—­’Oh, I am so sorry!’

’You need not be.  He won’t mind it long; and a man must take the consequences when he puts himself in a false position.’

Molly could not tell what to reply to this, so she hung her head and kept silence.  Yet she could see that Roger did not change his attitude or remove his hand from the back of his chair, and, impelled by curiosity to find out the cause of his stillness, she looked up at him at length, and saw his gaze fixed on the two who were near the piano.  Osborne was saying something eagerly to Cynthia, whose grave eyes were upturned to him with soft intentness of expression, and her pretty mouth half-open, with a sort of impatience for him to cease speaking, that she might reply.