"This call is not on you, Molly," said he, after the first greetings
were over. "I was in hopes I might have found your father at home;
I thought lunch-time was the best hour." He had sate down, as if
thoroughly glad of the rest, and fallen into a languid stooping
position, as if it had become so natural to him that no sense of what
were considered good manners sufficed to restrain him now.
"I hope you did not want to see him professionally?" said Molly,
wondering if she was wise in alluding to his health, yet urged to it
by her real anxiety.
"Yes, I did. I suppose I may help myself to a biscuit and a glass of
wine? No, don't ring for more. I could not eat it if it was here. But
I just want a mouthful; this is quite enough, thank you. When will
your father be back?"
"He was summoned up to London. Lady Cumnor is worse. I fancy there is
some operation going on; but I don't know. He will be back to-morrow
night."
"Very well. Then I must wait. Perhaps I shall be better by that time.
I think it's half fancy; but I should like your father to tell me so.
He will laugh at me, I daresay; but I don't think I shall mind that.
He always is severe on fanciful patients, isn't he, Molly?"
Molly thought that if he saw Osborne's looks just then he would
hardly think him fanciful, or be inclined to be severe. But she only
said,--"Papa enjoys a joke at everything, you know. It is a relief
after all the sorrow he sees."
"Very true. There is a great deal of sorrow in the world. I don't
think it's a very happy place after all. So Cynthia is gone to
London?" he added, after a pause. "I think I should like to have seen
her again. Poor old Roger! He loves her very dearly, Molly," he said.
Molly hardly knew how to answer him in all this; she was so struck by
the change in both voice and manner.
"Mamma has gone to the Towers," she began, at length. "Lady Cumnor
wanted several things that mamma only can find. She will be sorry to
miss you. We were speaking of you only yesterday, and she said how
long it was since we had seen you."
"I think I've grown careless; I've often felt so weary and ill that
it was all I could do to keep up a brave face before my father."
"Why did you not come and see papa?" said Molly; "or write to him?"