"My dear sweet girl values your love as it ought to be valued, I am sure. And I believe," looking at Cynthia and Roger with intelligent archness, "I could tell tales as to the cause of her indisposition in the spring."
"Mother," said Cynthia suddenly, "you know it was no such thing. Pray don't invent stories about me. I have engaged myself to Mr. Roger Hamley, and that is enough."
"Enough! more than enough!" said Roger. "I will not accept your pledge. I am bound, but you are free. I like to feel bound, it makes me happy and at peace, but with all the chances involved in the next two years, you must not shackle yourself by promises."
Cynthia did not speak at once; she was evidently revolving something in her own mind. Mrs. Gibson took up the word.
"You are very generous, I am sure. Perhaps it will be better not to mention it."
"I would much rather have it kept a secret," said Cynthia, interrupting.
"Certainly, my dear love. That was just what I was going to say. I once knew a young lady who heard of the death of a young man in America, whom she had known pretty well; and she immediately said she had been engaged to him, and even went so far as to put on weeds; and it was a false report, for he came back well and merry, and declared to everybody he had never so much as thought about her. So it was very awkward for her. These things had much better be kept secret until the proper time has come for divulging them."
Even then and there Cynthia could not resist the temptation of saying,—"Mamma, I will promise you I won't put on weeds, whatever reports come of Mr. Roger Hamley."
"Roger, please!" he put in, in a tender whisper.
"And you will all be witnesses that he has professed to think of me, if he is tempted afterwards to deny the fact. But at the same time I wish it to be kept a secret until his return—and I am sure you will all be so kind as to attend to my wish. Please, Roger! Please, Molly! Mamma, I must especially beg it of you!"