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'm afraid you've 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 simple 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
simple 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.