“Well, mamma, I’m very sorry; but, after all, what I wanted to say as strongly as I could was, that the Squire loves the little boy as much as his own child; and that Roger—oh! what a shame to think that Roger——” And she suddenly stopped short, as if she were choked.

“I don’t wonder at your indignation, my dear!” said Mrs. Gibson. “It is just what I should have felt at your age. But one learns the baseness of human nature with advancing years. I was wrong, though, to undeceive you so early—but, depend upon it, the thought I alluded to has crossed Roger Hamley’s mind!”

“All sorts of thoughts cross one’s mind—it depends upon whether one gives them harbour and encouragement,” said Molly.

“My dear, if you must have the last word, don’t let it be a truism. But let us talk on some more interesting subject. I asked Cynthia to buy me a silk gown in Paris, and I said I would send her word what colour I fixed upon—I think dark blue is the most becoming to my complexion; what do you say?”

Molly agreed, sooner than take the trouble of thinking about the thing at all; she was far too full of her silent review of all the traits in Roger’s character which had lately come under her notice, and that gave the lie direct to her stepmother’s supposition. Just then, they heard Mr. Gibson’s step downstairs. But it was some time before he made his entrance into the room where they were sitting.

“How is little Roger?” said Molly eagerly.

“Beginning with scarlet fever, I’m afraid. It’s well you left when you did, Molly. You’ve never had it. We must stop up all intercourse with the Hall for a time. If there’s one illness I dread, it is this.”

“But you go and come back to us, papa.”

“Yes. But I always take plenty of precautions. However, no need to talk about risks that lie in the way of one’s duty. It is unnecesary risks that we must avoid.”

“Will he have it badly?” asked Molly.

“I can’t tell. I shall do my best for the wee laddie.”

Whenever Mr. Gibson’s feelings were touched, he was apt to recur to the language of his youth. Molly knew now that he was much interested in the case.

For some days there was imminent danger to the little boy; for some weeks there was a more chronic form of illness to contend with; but, when the immediate danger was over and the warm daily interest was past, Molly began to realise that, from the strict quarantine her father evidently thought it necessary to establish between the two houses, she was not likely to see Roger again before his departure for Africa. Oh! if she had but made more of the uncared-for days that she had passed with him at the Hall! Worse than uncared for; days on which she had avoided him; refused to converse freely with him; given him pain by her change of manner; for she had read in his eyes, heard in his voice, that he had been perplexed and pained, and now her imagination dwelt on and exaggerated the expression of his tones and looks.

One evening after dinner, her father said—

“As the country-people say, I’ve done a stroke of work to-day. Roger Hamley and I have laid our heads together, and we’ve made a plan by which Mrs. Osborne and her boy will leave the Hall.”

“What did I say the other day, Molly?” said Mrs. Gibson, interrupting, and giving Molly a look of extreme intelligence.