So Sir Charles began this day at luncheon by taking Molly under his
quiet protection. He did not say much to her; but what he did say was
thoroughly friendly and sympathetic; and Molly began, as he and Lady
Harriet intended that she should, to have a kind of pleasant reliance
upon him. Then in the evening while the rest of the family were at
dinner--after Molly's tea and hour of quiet repose, Parkes came and
dressed her in some of the new clothes prepared for the Kirkpatrick
visit, and did her hair in some new and pretty way, so that when
Molly looked at herself in the cheval-glass, she scarcely knew the
elegant reflection to be that of herself. She was fetched down by
Lady Harriet into the great long formidable drawing-room, which as
an interminable place of pacing, had haunted her dreams ever since
her childhood. At the further end sat Lady Cumnor at her tapestry
work; the light of fire and candle seemed all concentrated on that
one bright part where presently Lady Harriet made tea, and Lord
Cumnor went to sleep, and Sir Charles read passages aloud from the
_Edinburgh Review_ to the three ladies at their work.
When Molly went to bed she was constrained to admit that staying at
the Towers as a visitor was rather pleasant than otherwise; and she
tried to reconcile old impressions with new ones, until she fell
asleep. There was another comparatively quiet day before the expected
guests began to arrive in the evening. Lady Harriet took Molly a
drive in her little pony-carriage; and for the first time for many
weeks Molly began to feel the delightful spring of returning health;
the dance of youthful spirits in the fresh air cleared by the
previous day's rain.