‘Sorry to have disturbed your tete-a-tete, Preston,’ but though she heard the words, their implied sense did not sink into her mind; she was only feeling how she had gone out glorious and confident, and was coming back to Cynthia defeated.

Cynthia was on the watch for her return, and, rushing downstairs, dragged Molly into the dining-room.

’Well, Molly?  Oh!  I see you have not got them.  After all, I never expected it.’  She sate down, as if she could get over her disappointment better in that position, and Molly stood like a guilty person before her.

’I am so sorry; I did all I could; we were interrupted at last—­Mr Sheepshanks rode up.’

’Provoking old man!  Do you think you should have persuaded him to give up the letters if you had had more time?’

’I don’t know.  I wish Mr. Sheepshanks had not come just then.  I did not like his finding me standing talking to Mr. Preston.’

’Oh!  I daresay he would never think anything about it.  What did he—­Mr. Preston—­say?’

’He seemed to think you were fully engaged to him, and that these letters were the only proof he had.  I think he loves you in his way.’

‘His way, indeed!’ said Cynthia, scornfully.

’The more I think of it, the more I see it would be better for papa to speak to him.  I did say I would tell it all to Lady Harriet, and get Lord Cumnor to make him give up the letters.  But it would be very awkward.’

‘Very!’ said Cynthia, gloomily.  ’But he would see it was only a threat.’

’But I will do it in a moment, if you like.  I meant what I said; only I feel that papa would manage it best of all, and more privately.’

’I’ll tell you what, Molly; you’re bound by a promise, you know, and cannot tell Mr. Gibson without breaking your solemn word; but it’s just this.  I’ll leave Hollingford and never come back again, if ever your father hears of this affair; there!’ Cynthia stood up now, and began to fold up Molly’s shawl, in her nervous excitement.

‘Oh, Cynthia—­Roger!’ was all that Molly said.

’Yes, I know! you need not remind me of him.  But I’m not going to live in the house with any one who may be always casting up in his mind the things he had heard against me—­things—­faults, perhaps—­which sound so much worse than they really are.  I was so happy when I first came here:  you all liked me, and admired me, and thought well of me, and now—­Why, Molly, I can see the difference in you already.  You carry your thoughts in your face—­I have read them there these two days—­you’ve been thinking, “How Cynthia must have deceived me; keeping up a correspondence all this time—­having half-engagements to two men.”  You’ve been more full of that than of pity for me as a girl who has always been obliged to manage for herself, without any friend to help her and protect her.’