"I do try to say, God's will be done, sir," said the Squire, looking
up at Mr. Gibson for the first time, and speaking with more life in
his voice; "but it's harder to be resigned than happy people think."
They were all silent for a while. The Squire himself was the first
to speak again,--"He was my first child, sir; my eldest son. And
of late years we weren't"--his voice broke down, but he controlled
himself--"we weren't quite as good friends as could be wished; and
I'm not sure--not sure that he knew how I loved him." And now he
cried aloud with an exceeding bitter cry.
"Better so!" whispered Mr. Gibson to Molly. "When he's a little
calmer, don't be afraid; tell him all you know, exactly as it
happened."
Molly began. Her voice sounded high and unnatural to herself, as if
some one else was speaking, but she made her words clear. The Squire
did not attempt to listen, at first, at any rate.
"One day when I was here, at the time of Mrs. Hamley's last illness"
(the Squire here checked his convulsive breathing), "I was in the
library, and Osborne came in. He said he had only come in for a book,
and that I was not to mind him, so I went on reading. Presently,
Roger came along the flagged garden-path just outside the window
(which was open). He did not see me in the corner where I was
sitting, and said to Osborne, 'Here's a letter from your wife!'"
Now the Squire was all attention; for the first time his tear-swollen
eyes met the eyes of another, and he looked at Molly with searching
anxiety, as he repeated, "His wife! Osborne married!" Molly went on:
"Osborne was angry with Roger for speaking out before me, and they
made me promise never to mention it to any one; or to allude to it to
either of them again. I never named it to papa till last night."
"Go on," said Mr. Gibson. "Tell the Squire about Osborne's call--what
you told me!" Still the Squire hung on her lips, listening with open
mouth and eyes.
"Some months ago Osborne called. He was not well, and wanted to see
papa. Papa was away, and I was alone. I don't exactly remember how
it came about, but he spoke to me of his wife for the first and only
time since the affair in the library." She looked at her father, as
if questioning him as to the desirableness of telling the few further
particulars that she knew. The Squire's mouth was dry and stiff, but
he tried to say, "Tell me all,--everything." And Molly understood the
half-formed words.