‘I sent Cynthia an African letter,’ said Molly, timidly.  ’Did you hear anything of what was in it?’

’Oh, yes, poor child!  It made her very uneasy, I think; she said she did not feel inclined to go to Mr. Rawson’s ball, which was on that night, and for which Mrs. Kirkpatrick had given her the ball-dress.  But there really was nothing for her to fidget herself about.  Roger only said he had had another touch of fever, but was better when he wrote.  He says every European has to be acclimatized by fever in that part of Abyssinia where he is.’

‘And did she go?’ asked Molly.

’Yes, to be sure.  It is not an engagement; and if it were, it is not acknowledged.  Fancy her going and saying, “A young man that I know has been ill for a few days in Africa, two months ago, therefore I don’t want to go to the ball to-night.”  It would have seemed like affectation of sentiment; and if there’s one thing I hate it is that.’

‘She would hardly enjoy herself,’ said Molly.

’Oh, yes, but she did.  Her dress was white gauze, trimmed with lilacs, and she really did look—­a mother may be allowed a little natural partiality—­most lovely.  And she danced every dance, although she was quite a stranger.  I am sure she enjoyed herself, from her manner of talking about it next morning.’

‘I wonder if the squire knows.’

’Knows what?  Oh, yes, to be sure!  You mean about Roger.  I dare say he doesn’t, and there’s no need to tell him, for I’ve no doubt it is all right now.’  And she went out of the room to Finish her unpacking.

Molly let her work fall, and sighed.  ’It will be a year the day after to-morrow since he came here to propose our going to Hurst Wood, and mamma was so vexed at his calling before lunch.  I wonder if Cynthia remembers it as well as I do.  And now, perhaps—­Oh!  Roger, Roger!  I wish—­I pray that you were safe home again!  How could we all bear it, if—­’

She covered her face with her hands, and tried to stop thinking.  Suddenly she got up, as if stung by a venomous fancy,

’I don’t believe she loves him as she ought, or she could not—­could not have gone and danced.  What shall I do if she does not?  What shall I do?  I can bear anything but that.’

But she found the long suspense as to his health hard enough to endure.  They were not likely to hear from him for a month at least, and before that time had elapsed Cynthia would be at home again.  Molly learnt to long for her return before a fortnight of her absence was over.  She had had no idea that perpetual tete-a-tetes with Mrs. Gibson could, by any possibility, be so tiresome as she found them.  Perhaps Molly’s state of delicate health, consequent upon her rapid growth during the last few months, made her irritable; but really often she had to get up and leave the room to calm herself down after listening to a long series of words, more frequently plaintive or discontented in tone than cheerful, and which at