She might as well go to Ashcombe, or anywhere else, now.Thinking more of others' happiness than of her own was very fine; but did it not mean giving up her very individuality, quenching all the warm love, the keen desires, that made her herself? Yet in this deadness lay her only comfort;or so it seemed.Wandering in such mazes, she hardly knew how the conversation went on; a third was indeed 'trumpery,' where there was entire confidence between the two who were company, from which the other was shut out.She was positively unhappy, and her father did not appear to see it; he was absorbed with his new plans and his new wife that was to be.But he did notice it; and was keenly sorry for his little girl; only he thought that there was a greater chance for the future harmony of the household, if he did not lead Molly to define her present feelings by putting them into words.It was his general plan to repress emotion by not showing the sympathy he felt.Yet, when he had to leave, he took Molly's hand in his, and held it there, in such a different manner to that in which Mrs Kirkpatrick had done; and his voice softened to his child as he bade her good-by, and added the words (most unusual to him), 'God bless you, child!' Molly had held up all the day bravely; she had not shown anger, or repugnance, or annoyance, or regret; but when once more by herself in the Hamley carriage, she burst into a passion of tears, and cried her fill till she reached the village of Hamley.Then she tried in vain to smooth her face into smiles, and do away with the other signs of her grief.She only hoped she could run upstairs to her own room without notice, and bathe her eyes in cold water before she was seen.But at the hall-door she was caught by the squire and Roger coming in from an after-dinner stroll in the garden, and hospitably anxious to help her to alight.Roger saw the state of things in an instant, and saying, - 'My mother has been looking for you to come back for this last hour,' he led the way to the drawing-room.But Mrs Hamley was not there; the squire had stopped to speak to the coachman about one of the horses; they two were alone.Roger said, - 'I am afraid you have had a very trying day.I have thought of you several times, for I know how awkward these new relations are.' 'Thank you,' said she, her lips trembling, and on the point of crying again.
'I did try to remember what you said, and to think more of others, but it is so difficult sometimes; you know it is, don't you?' 'Yes,' said he, gravely.He was gratified by her ****** confession of having borne his words of advice in mind, and tried to act up to them.He was but a very young man, and he was honestly flattered; perhaps this led him on to offer more advice, and this time it was evidently mingled with sympathy.
He did not want to draw out her confidence, which he felt might very easily be done with such a ****** girl; but he wished to help her by giving her a few of the principles on which he had learnt to rely.'It is difficult,'
he went on, 'but by-and-by you will be so much happier for it.' 'No, I shan't!' said Molly, shaking her head.'It will be very dull when I shall have killed myself, as it were, and live only in trying to do, and to be, as other people like.I don't see any end to it.I might as well never have lived.And as for the happiness you speak of, I shall never be happy again.' There was an unconscious depth in what she said, that Roger did not know how to answer at the moment; it was easier to address himself to the assertion of the girl of seventeen, that she should never be happy again.'Nonsense: perhaps in ten years' time you will be looking back on this trial as a very light one - who knows?' 'I daresay it seems foolish; perhaps all our earthly trials will appear foolish to us after a while.perhaps they seem so now to angels.But we are ourselves, you know, and this is now, not some time to come, a long, long way off.And we are not angels, to be comforted by seeing the ends for which everything is sent.' She had never spoken so long a sentence to him before; and when she had said it, though she did not take her eyes away from his, as they stood steadily looking at each other, she blushed a little; she could not have told why.Nor did he tell himself why a sudden pleasure came over him as he gazed at her ****** expressive face - and for a moment lost the sense of what she was saying, in the sensation of pity for her sad earnestness.
In an instant more he was himself again.Only it is pleasant to the wisest, most reasonable youth of one or two and twenty to find himself looked up to as a Mentor by a girl of seventeen.'I know, I understand.Yes: it is now we have to do with.Don't let us go into metaphysics.' Molly opened her eyes wide at this.Had she been talking metaphysics without knowing it? 'One looks forward to a mass of trials, which will only have to be encountered one by one, little by little.Oh, here is my mother! she will tell you better than I can.' And the tête-à-tête was merged in a trio.Mrs Hamley lay down; she had not been well all day - she had missed Molly, she said, - and now she wanted to hear of all the adventures that had occurred to the girl at the Towers.Molly sate on a stool close to the head of the sofa, and Roger, though at first he took up a book and tried to read that he might be no restraint, soon found his reading all a pretence: it was so interesting to listen to Molly's little narrative, and, besides, if he could give her any help in her time of need, was it not his duty to make himself acquainted with all the circumstances of her case? And so they went on during all the remaining time of Molly's stay at Hamley.
Mrs Hamley sympathized, and liked to hear details, as the French say, her sympathy was given en détail , the squire's en gros.
He was very sorry for her evident grief, and almost felt guilty, as if he had had a share in bringing it about, by the mention he had made of the possibility of Mr Gibson's marrying again, when first Molly had come on her visit to them.He said to his wife more than once, - ''Pon my word, now, I wish I'd never spoken those unlucky words that first day at dinner.Do you remember how she took them up? It was like a prophecy of what was to come, now, wasn't it? And she looked pale from that day, and I don't think she has ever fairly enjoyed her food since.I must take more care what I say for the future.Not but what Gibson is doing the very best thing, both for himself and her, that he can do.I told him so only yesterday.But I'm very sorry for the little girl, though.I wish I'd never spoken about it, that I do! but it was like a prophecy, wasn't it?' Roger tried hard to find out a reasonable and right method of comfort, for he, too, in his way, was sorry for the girl, who bravely struggled to be cheerful, in spite of her own private grief, for his mother's sake.
He felt as if high principle and noble precept ought to perform an immediate work.But they do not, for there is always the unknown quantity of individual experience and feeling, which offer a tacit resistance, the amount incalculable by another, to all good counsel and high decree.But the bond between the Mentor and his Telemachus strengthened every day.He endeavoured to lead her out of morbid thought into interest in other than personal things;and, naturally enough, his own objects of interest came readiest to hand.
She felt that he did her good, she did not know why or how; but after a talk with him, she always fancied that she had got the clue to goodness and peace, whatever befell.
