That last sentence contained the germ of Mrs. Gibson’s present grievance.  Having married Cynthia, as her mother put it—­taking credit to herself as if she had had the principal part in the achievement—­she now became a little envious of her daughter’s good fortune in being the wife of a young, handsome, rich and moderately fashionable man, who lived in London.  She naively expressed her feelings on this subject to her husband one day when she was really not feeling quite well, and when consequently her annoyances were much more present to her mind than her sources of happiness.

‘It is such a pity!’ said she, ’that I was born when I was.  I should so have liked to belong to this generation.’

‘That’s sometimes my own feeling,’ said he.  ’So many new views seem to be opened in science, that I should like, if it were possible, to live till their reality was ascertained, and one saw what they led to.  But I don’t suppose that’s your reason, my dear, for wishing to be twenty or thirty years younger.’

’No, indeed.  And I did not put it in that hard unpleasant way; I only said I should like to belong to this generation.  To tell the truth, I was thinking of Cynthia.  Without vanity, I believe I was as pretty as she is—­when I was a girl, I mean; I had not her dark eye-lashes, but then my nose was straighter.  And now look at the difference!  I have to live in a little country town with three servants, and no carriage; and she with her inferior good looks will live in Sussex Place,’ and keep a man and a brougham, and I don’t know what.  But the fact is, in this generation there are so many more rich young men than there were when I was a girl.’

’Oh, ho! so that’s your reason, is it, my dear.  If you had been young now you might have married somebody as well off as Walter?’

‘Yes!’ said she.  ’I think that was my idea.  Of course I should have liked him to be you.  I always think if you had gone to the bar you might have succeeded better, and lived in London, too.  I don’t think Cynthia cares much where she lives, yet you see it has come to her.’

‘What has—­London?’

’Oh, you dear, facetious man.  Now that’s just the thing to have captivated a jury.  I don’t believe Walter will ever be so clever as you are.  Yet he can take Cynthia to Paris, and abroad, and everywhere.  I only hope all this indulgence won’t develope the faults in Cynthia’s character.  It’s a week since we heard from her, and I did write so particularly to ask her for the autumn fashions before I bought my new bonnet.  But riches are a great snare.’

‘Be thankful you are spared temptation, my dear.’

’No, I’m not.  Every body likes to be tempted.  And, after all, it’s very easy to resist temptation, if one wishes.’

‘I don’t find it so easy,’ said her husband.

‘Here’s medicine for you, mamma,’ said Molly, entering with a letter held up in her hand.  ‘A letter from Cynthia.’