But Roger was at the door before her, holding it open for her, and reading - she felt that he was reading - her face.He held out his band for hers, and his firm grasp expressed both sympathy and regret for what had occurred.She could hardly keep back her sobs till she reached her bedroom.Her feelings had been overwrought for some time past, without finding the natural vent in action.The leaving Hamley Hall had seemed so sad before; and now she was troubled with having to bear away a secret which she ought never to have known, and the knowledge of which had brought out a very uncomfortable responsibility.Then there would arise a very natural wonder as to who was Osborne's wife.Molly had not stayed so long and so intimately in the Hamley family without being well aware of the manner in which the future lady of Hamley was planned for.The squire, for instance, partly in order to show that Osborne, his heir, was above the reach of Molly Gibson, the doctor's daughter, in the early days before he knew Molly well, had often alluded to the grand, the high, and the wealthy marriage which Hamley of Hamley, as represented by his clever, brilliant, handsome son Osborne, might be expected to make.Mrs Hamley, too, unconsciously on her part, showed the projects that she was constantly devising for the reception of the unknown daughter-in-law that was to be.'The drawing-room must be refurnished when Osborne marries' - or 'Osborne's wife will like to have the west suite of rooms to herself; it will perhaps be a trial to her to live with the old couple; but we must arrange it so that she will feel it as little as possible' - 'Of course, when Mrs Osborne comes we must try and give her a new carriage; the old one does well enough for us' - these, and similar speeches had given Molly the impression of the future Mrs Osborne as of some beautiful grand young lady, whose very presence would make the old Hall into a stately, formal mansion, instead of the pleasant, unceremonious home that it was at present.Osborne, too, who had spoken with such languid criticism to Mrs Gibson about various country belles, and even in his own home was apt to give himself airs -only at home his airs were poetically fastidious, while with Mrs Gibson they had been socially fastidious - what unspeakably elegant beauty had he chosen for his wife? Who had satisfied him; and yet satisfying him, had to have her, marriage kept in concealment from his parents? At length Molly tore herself up from her wanderings.It was of no use: she could not find out; she might not even try.The blank wall of her promise blocked up the way.Perhaps it was not even right to wonder, and endeavour to remember slight speeches, casual mentions of a name, so as to piece them together into something coherent.Molly dreaded seeing either of the brothers again;but they all met at dinner-time as if nothing had happened.The squire was taciturn, either from melancholy or displeasure.He had never spoken to Osborne since his return, excepting about the commonest trifles, when intercourse could not be avoided; and his wife's state oppressed him like a heavy cloud coming over the light of his day.Osborne put on an indifferent manner to his father, which Molly felt sure was assumed; but it was not conciliatory, for all that.Roger, quiet, steady, and natural, talked more than all the others; but he too was uneasy, and in distress on many accounts.
To-day he principally addressed himself to Molly; entering into rather long narrations of late discoveries in natural history, which kept up the current of talk without requiring much reply from any one, Molly had expected Osborne to look something different from usual - conscious, or ashamed, or resentful, or even 'married' - but he was exactly the Osborne of the morning - handsome, elegant, languid in manner and in look; cordial with his brother, polite towards her, secretly uneasy at the state of things between his father and himself.She would never have guessed the concealed romance which lay perdu under that every-day behaviour.She had always wished to come into direct contact with a love-story: here she was, and she only found it very uncomfortable; there was a sense of concealment and uncertainty about it all; and her honest straightforward father, her quiet life at Hollingford, which, even with all its drawbacks, was above-board, and where everybody knew what everybody was doing, seemed secure and pleasant in comparison.Of course she felt great pain at quitting the Hall, and at the mute farewell she had taken of her sleeping and unconscious friend.
But leaving Mrs Hamley now was a different thing to what it had been a fortnight ago.Then she was wanted at any moment, and felt herself to be of comfort.Now her very existence seemed forgotten by the poor lady whose body appeared to be living so long after her soul.She was sent home in the carriage, loaded with true thanks from every one of the family.Osborne ransacked the houses for flowers for her; Roger had chosen her out books of every kind.The squire himself kept shaking her hand, without being able to speak his gratitude, till at last he had taken her in his arms, and kissed her as he would have done a daughter.
