So runs the round of life from day to day.  Mrs. Gibson found the chances of intercourse with the Towers rather more personally exciting than Roger’s visits, or the rarer calls of Osborne Hamley.  Cynthia had an old antipathy to the great family who had made so much of her mother and so little of her; and whom she considered as in some measure the cause why she had seen so little of her mother in the days when the little girl had craved for love and found none.  Moreover, Cynthia missed her slave, although she did not care for Roger one thousandth part of what he did for her; yet she had found it not unpleasant to have a man whom she thoroughly respected, and whom men in general respected, the subject of her eye, the glad ministrant to each scarce spoken wish, a person in whose sight all her words were pearls or diamonds, all her actions heavenly graciousness, and in whose thoughts she reigned supreme.  She had no modest unconsciousness about her; and yet she was not vain.  She knew of all this worship; and when from circumstances she no longer received it she missed it.  The Earl and the Countess, Lord Hollingford and Lady Harriet, lords and ladies in general, liveries, dresses, bags of game, and rumours of riding parties were as nothing to her as compared to Roger’s absence.  And yet she did not love him.  No, she did not love him.  Molly knew that Cynthia did not love him.  Molly grew angry with her many and many a time as the conviction of this fact was forced upon her.  Molly did not know her own feelings; Roger had no overwhelming interest in what they might be; while his very life-breath seemed to depend on what Cynthia felt and thought.  Therefore Molly had keen insight into her ‘sister’s’ heart; and she knew that Cynthia did not love Roger, Molly could have cried with passionate regret at the thought of the unvalued treasure lying at Cynthia’s feet; and it would have been a merely unselfish regret.  It was the old fervid tenderness.  ’Do not wish for the moon, O my darling, for I cannot give it thee.’  Cynthia’s love was the moon Roger yearned for; and Molly saw that it was far away and out of reach, else would she have strained her heart-chords to give it to Roger.

‘I am his sister,’ she would say to herself.  ’That old bond is not done away with, though he is too much absorbed by Cynthia to speak about it just now.  His mother called me “Fanny;” it was almost like an adoption.  I must wait and watch, and see if I can do anything for my brother.’

One day Lady Harriet came to call on the Gibsons, or rather on Mrs Gibson, for the latter retained her old jealousy if any one else in Hollingford was supposed to be on intimate terms at the great house, or in the least acquainted with their plans.  Mr. Gibson might possibly know as much, but then he was professionally bound to secrecy.  Out of the house she considered Mr. Preston as her rival, and he was aware that she did so, and delighted in teasing her by affecting a