’I wish you both to know that henceforward all is at an end between me and Roger Hamley.’

Molly’s book went down upon her knees; with open eyes and lips she strove to draw in Cynthia’s meaning.  Mrs. Gibson spoke querulously, as if injured,—­

’I could have understood this if it had happened three months ago,—­ when you were in London; but now it’s just nonsense, Cynthia, and you know you don’t mean it!’

Cynthia did not reply; nor did the resolute look on her face change when Molly spoke at last,—­

‘Cynthia—­think of him!  It will break his heart!’

‘No!’ said Cynthia, ’it will not.  But even if it did, I cannot help it.’

‘All this talk will soon pass away!’ said Molly; ’and when he knows the truth from your own self—­’

’From my own self he shall never hear it.  I do not love him well enough to go through the shame of having to excuse myself,—­to plead that he will reinstate me in his good opinion.  Confession may be—­well!  I can never believe it pleasant—­but it may be an ease of mind if one makes it to some people,—­to some person,—­and it may not be a mortification to sue for forgiveness.  I cannot tell.  All I know is,—­and I know it clearly, and will act upon it inflexibly—­that—­’ And there she stopped short.

‘I think you might finish your sentence,’ said her mother, after a silence of five seconds.

’I cannot bear to exculpate myself to Roger Hamley.  I will not submit to his thinking less well of me than he has done,—­however foolish his judgment may have been.  I would rather never see him again, for these two reasons.  And the truth is, I do not love him.  I like him, I respect him; but I will not marry him.  I have written to tell him so.  That was merely as a relief to myself, for when or where the letter will reach him—­And I have written to old Mr Hamley.  The relief is the one good thing come out of it all.  It is such a comfort to feel free again.  It wearied me so to think of straining up to his goodness.  “Extenuate my conduct!"’ she concluded, quoting Mr. Gibson’s words.  Yet when Mr. Gibson came home, after a silent dinner, she asked to speak with him, alone, in his consulting-room; and there laid bare the exculpation of herself which she had given to Molly many weeks before.  When she had ended, she said,—­

’And now, Mr. Gibson,—­I still treat you like a friend,—­help me to find some home far away, where all the evil talking and gossip mamma tells me of cannot find me and follow me.  It may be wrong to care for people’s good opinion,—­but it is me, and I cannot alter myself.  You, Molly,—­all the people in the town,—­I have not the patience to live through the nine days’ wonder.  I want to go away and be a governess.’

’But, my dear Cynthia,—­how soon Roger will be back,—­a tower of strength.’

’Has not mamma told you I have broken it all off with Roger?  I wrote this morning.  I wrote to his father.  That letter will reach to-morrow.  I wrote to Roger.  If he ever receives that letter I hope to be far away by that time; in Russia may be.’