’No!  I don’t suppose you have.  Don’t go and fancy it is that which is annoying me.  You’re mistaken about Miss Kirkpatrick, however.  I don’t believe she could ever have meant to give you encouragement!’

Mr. Coxe’s face grew perceptibly paler.  His feelings, if evanescent, were evidently strong.

’I think, sir, if you could have seen her—­I don’t consider myself vain, and manner is so difficult to describe.  At any rate, you can have no objection to my taking my chance, and speaking to her.’

’Of course, if you won’t be convinced otherwise, I can have no objection.  But if you’ll take my advice, you will spare yourself the pain of a refusal.  I may, perhaps, be trenching on confidence, but I think I ought to tell you that her affections are otherwise engaged.’

‘It cannot be!’ said Mr. Coxe.  ’Mr. Gibson, there must be some mistake.  I have gone as far as I dared in expressing my feelings, and her manner has been most gracious.  I don’t think she could have misunderstood my meaning.  Perhaps she has changed her mind?  It is possible that, after consideration, she has learnt to prefer another, is it not?’

’By “another,” you mean yourself, I suppose.  I can believe in such inconstancy’ (he could not help, in his own mind, giving a slight sneer at the instance before him), ’but I should be very sorry to think that Miss Kirkpatrick could be guilty of it.’

‘But she may—­it is a chance.  Will you allow me to see her?’

’Certainly, my poor fellow’—­for, intermingled with a little contempt, was a good deal of respect for the simplicity, the unworldliness, the strength of feeling, even though the feeling was evanescent—­’I will send her to you directly.’

‘Thank you, sir.  God bless you for a kind friend!’

Mr. Gibson went upstairs to the drawing-room, where he was pretty sure he should find Cynthia.  There she was, as bright and careless as usual, making up a bonnet for her mother, and chattering to Molly as she worked.

’Cynthia, you will oblige me by going down into my consulting-room at once.  Mr. Coxe wants to speak to you!’

‘Mr. Coxe?’ said Cynthia.  ‘What can he want with me?’

Evidently, she answered her own question as soon as it was asked, for she coloured, and avoided meeting Mr. Gibson’s severe, uncompromising look.  As soon as she had left the room, Mr. Gibson sate down, and took up a new Edinburgh lying on the table, as an excuse for conversation.  Was there anything in the article that made him say, after a minute or two, to Molly, who sate silent and wondering,—­

“Molly, you must never trifle with the love of an honest man.  You don’t know what pain you may give.”

Presently Cynthia came back into the drawing-room, looking very much confused.  Most likely she would not have returned if she had known that Mr. Gibson was still there; but it was such an unheard-of thing for him to be sitting in that room in the middle of the day, reading or making pretence to read, that she had never thought of his remaining.  He looked up at her the moment she came in, so there was nothing for it but putting a bold face on it, and going back to her work.