‘Is Mr. Coxe still downstairs?’ asked Mr. Gibson.

’No.  He is gone.  He asked me to give you both his kind regards.  I believe he is leaving this afternoon.’  Cynthia tried to make her manner as commonplace as possible; but she did not look up, and her voice trembled a little.

Mr. Gibson went on looking at his book for a few minutes; but Cynthia felt that more was coming, and only wished it would come quickly, for the severe silence was very hard to bear.  It came at last.

‘I trust this will never occur again, Cynthia!’ said he, in grave displeasure.  ’I should not feel satisfied with the conduct of any girl, however free, who could receive marked attentions from a young man with complacency, and so lead him on to make an offer which she never meant to accept.  But what must I think of a young woman in your position, engaged—­yet “accepting most graciously,” for that was the way Coxe expressed it—­the overtures of another man?  Do you consider what unnecessary pain you have given him by your thoughtless behaviour?  I call it “thoughtless,” but it is the mildest epithet I can apply to it.  I beg that such a thing may not occur again, or I shall be obliged to characterize it more severely.’

Molly could not imagine what “more severely” could be, for her father’s manner appeared to her almost cruel in its sternness.  Cynthia coloured up extremely, then went pale, and at length raised her beautiful appealing eyes full of tears to Mr. Gibson.  He was touched by that look, but he resolved immediately not to be mollified by any of her physical charms of expression, but to keep to his sober judgment of her conduct.

’Please, Mr. Gibson, hear my side of the story before you speak so hardly to me.  I did not mean to—­to flirt.  I merely meant to make myself agreeable,—­I can’t help doing that,—­and that goose of a Mr Coxe seems to have fancied I meant to give him encouragement.’

’Do you mean that you were not aware that he was falling in love with you?’ Mr. Gibson was melting into a readiness to be convinced by that sweet voice, and pleading face.

‘Well, I suppose I must speak truly.’  Cynthia blushed and smiled—­ever so little—­but it was a smile, and it hardened Mr Gibson’s heart again.  ’I did think once or twice that he was becoming a little more complimentary than the occasion required; but I hate throwing cold water on people, and I never thought he could take it into his silly head to fancy himself seriously in love, and to make such a fuss at the last, after only a fortnight’s acquaintance.’

’You seem to have been pretty well aware of his silliness (I should rather call it simplicity).  Don’t you think you should have remembered that it might lead him to exaggerate what you were doing and saying into encouragement?’

‘Perhaps.  I daresay I’m all wrong, and that he is all right,’ said Cynthia, piqued and pouting.  ’We used to say in France, that “les absens ont toujours tort,” but really it seems as if here—­’ she stopped.  She was unwilling to be impertinent to a man whom she respected and liked.  She took up another point of her defence, and rather made matters worse.  ’Besides, Roger would not allow me to consider myself as finally engaged to him; I would willingly have done it, but he would not let me.’