I told him so, the last time but one he was here.' 'And what did he say?' asked breathless Molly.'Oh: he only smiled, and said nothing.You shouldn't take up words so seriously, my dear.Very likely he may never think of marrying again, and if he did, it would be a very good thing both for him and for you!' Molly muttered something, as if to herself, but the squire might have heard it if he had chosen.As it was, he wisely turned the current of the conversation.'Look at that!' he said, as they suddenly came upon the mere, or large pond.There was a small island in the middle of the glassy water, on which grew tall trees, dark Scotch firs in the centre, silvery shimmering willows close to the water's edge.'We must get you punted over there, some of these days.I'm not fond of using the boat at this time of the year, because the young birds are still in the nests among the reeds and water-plants;but we'll go.There are coots and grebes.' 'Oh, look, there's a swan!' 'Yes; there are two pair of them here.And in those trees there is both a rookery and a heronry; the herons ought to be here by now, for they're off to the sea in August, but I have not seen one yet.Stay! is not that one - that fellow on a stone, with his long neck bent down, looking into the water?' 'Yes! I think so.I have never seen a heron, only pictures of them.' 'They and the rooks are always at war, which does not do for such near neighbours.If both herons leave the nest they are building, the rooks come and tear it to pieces; and once Roger showed me a long straggling fellow of a heron, with a flight of rooks after him, with no friendly purpose in their minds, I'll be bound.Roger knows a deal of natural history, and finds out queer things sometimes.He would have been off a dozen times during this walk of ours, if he'd been here; his eyes are always wandering about, and see twenty things where I only see one.Why! I have known him bolt into a copse because he saw something fifteen yards off - some plant, maybe, which he would tell me was very rare, though I should say I'd seen its marrow at every turn in the woods; and, if we came upon such a thing as this,' touching a delicate film of a cobweb upon a leaf with his stick, as he spoke, 'why, he could tell you what insect or spider made it, and if it lived in rotten fir-wood, or in a cranny of good sound timber, or deep down in the ground, or up in the sky, or anywhere.It is a pity they don't take honours in Natural History at Cambridge.Roger would be safe enough if they did.' 'Mr Osborne Hamley is very clever, is he not?' Molly asked, timidly.'Oh, yes.Osborne's a bit of a genius.His mother looks for great things from Osborne.I'm rather proud of him myself.He'll get a Trinity fellowship, if they play him fair.As I was saying at the magistrates' meeting yesterday, "I've got a son who will make a noise at Cambridge, or I'm very much mistaken."Now, is it not a queer quip of Nature,' continued the squire, turning his honest face towards Molly, as if he was going to impart a new idea to her, 'that I, a Hamley of Hamley, straight in descent from nobody knows when - the Heptarchy, they say - What's the date of the Heptarchy?' 'I don't know,' said Molly, startled at being thus appealed to.'Well! it was some time before King Alfred, because he was the King of all England, you know; but, as I was saying, here am I, of as good and as old a descent as any man in England, and I doubt if a stranger to look at me, would take me for a gentleman, with my red face, great hands and feet, and thick figure, fourteen stone, and never less than twelve even when I was a young man;' and there's Osborne, who takes after his mother, who could not tell her great-grandfather from Adam, bless her; and Osborne has a girl's delicate face, and a slight make, and hands and feet as small as a lady's.He takes after madam's side, who, as I said, can't tell who was their grandfather.Now, Roger is like me, a Hamley of Hamley, and no one who sees him in the street will ever think that red-brown, big-boned, clumsy chap is of gentle blood.Yet all those Cumnor people, you make such ado of in Hollingford, are mere muck of yesterday.I was talking to madam the other day about Osborne's marrying a daughter of Lord Hollingford's - that's to say, if he had a daughter - he's only got boys, as it happens;but I'm not sure if I should consent to it.I really am not sure; for you see Osborne will have had a first-rate education, and his family dates from the Heptarchy, while I should be glad to know where the Cumnor folk were in the time of Queen Anne?' He walked on, pondering the question of whether he could have given his consent to this impossible marriage; and after some time, and when Molly had quite forgotten the subject to which he alluded, he broke out with - 'No! I am sure I should have looked higher.
So, perhaps, it's as well my Lord Hollingford has only boys.' After a while, he thanked Molly for her companionship, with old-fashioned courtesy; and told her that he thought, by this time, madam would be up and dressed, and glad to have her young visitor with her.He pointed out the deep purple house, with its stone facings, as it was seen at some distance between the trees, and watched her protectingly on her way along the field-paths.'That's a nice girl of Gibson's,' quoth he to himself.'But what a tight hold the wench got of the notion of his marrying again! One had need be on one's guard as to what one says before her.To think of her never having thought of the chance of a step-mother.To be sure, a step-mother to a girl is a different thing to a second wife to a man!'
