‘Osborne married!’ exclaimed Cynthia.  ’If ever a man looked a bachelor, he did.  Poor Osborne! with his fair delicate elegance,—­he looked so young and boyish!’

’Yes! it was a great piece of deceit, and I can’t easily forgive him for it.  Only think!  If he had paid either of you any particular attention, and you had fallen in love with him!  Why, he might have broken your heart, or Molly’s either.  I can’t forgive him, even though he is dead, poor fellow!’

Well, as he never did pay either of us any particular attention, and as we neither of us did fall in love with him, I think I only feel sorry that he had all the trouble and worry of concealment.’  Cynthia spoke with a pretty keen recollection of how much trouble and worry her concealment had cost her.

’And now of course it is a son, and will be the heir, and Roger will just be as poorly off as ever.  I hope you’ll take care and let the squire know Cynthia was quite ignorant of these new facts that have come out when she wrote those letters, Molly?  I should not like a suspicion of worldliness to rest upon any one with whom I had any concern.’

’He has not read Cynthia’s letter yet.  Oh, do let me bring it home unopened,’ said Molly.  ’Send another letter to Roger—­now—­at once; it will reach him at the same time; he will get both when he arrives at the Cape, and make him understand which is the last—­the real one.  Think! he will hear of Osborne’s death at the same time—­two such sad things!  Do, Cynthia!’

‘No, my dear,’ said Mrs. Gibson.  ’I could not allow that, even if Cynthia felt inclined for it.  Asking to be re-engaged to him!  At any rate, she must wait now until he proposes again, and we see how things turn out.’

But Molly kept her pleading eyes fixed on Cynthia.

‘No!’ said Cynthia firmly, but not without consideration.  ’It cannot be.  I have felt more content this last night than I have done for weeks past.  I am glad to be free.  I dreaded Roger’s goodness, and learning, and all that.  It was not in my way, and I don’t believe I should have ever married him, even without knowing of all these ill-natured stories that are circulating about me, and which he would hear of, and expect me to explain, and be sorry for, and penitent and humble.  I know he could not have made me happy, and I don’t believe he would have been happy with me.  It must stay as it is.  I would rather be a governess than married to him.  I should get weary of him every day of my life.’

‘Weary of Roger!’ said Molly to herself.  ‘It is best as it is, I see,’ she answered aloud.  ’Only I am very sorry for him, very.  He did love you so.  You will never get any one to love you like him!’

’Very well.  I must take my chance.  And too much love is rather oppressive to me, I believe.  I like a great deal, widely spread about; not all confined to one individual lover.’