"You know-- Yes! she told you a great deal--she was very fond of you.
And God knows how I loved her. If I had not been forbidden to come
home, I should have told her all. Does my father know of my coming
now?"
"Yes," said Molly; "I told him papa had sent for you."
Just at that moment the Squire came in. He had not heard of Osborne's
arrival, and was seeking Molly to ask her to write a letter for him.
Osborne did not stand up when his father entered. He was too much
exhausted, too much oppressed by his feelings, and also too much
estranged by his father's angry, suspicious letters. If he had come
forward with any manifestation of feeling at this moment, everything
might have been different. But he waited for his father to see him
before he uttered a word. All that the Squire said when his eye fell
upon him at last was,--
"You here, sir!"
And, breaking off in the directions he was giving to Molly, he
abruptly left the room. All the time his heart was yearning after his
first-born; but mutual pride kept them asunder. Yet he went straight
to the butler, and asked of him when Mr. Osborne had arrived, and how
he had come, and if he had had any refreshment--dinner or what--since
his arrival?
"For I think I forget everything now!" said the poor Squire, putting
his hand up to his head. "For the life of me, I can't remember
whether we've had dinner or not; these long nights, and all this
sorrow and watching, quite bewilder me."
"Perhaps, sir, you will take some dinner with Mr. Osborne. Mrs.
Morgan is sending up his directly. You hardly sate down at
dinner-time, sir, you thought my mistress wanted something."
"Ay! I remember now. No! I won't have any more. Give Mr. Osborne what
wine he chooses. Perhaps _he_ can eat and drink." So the Squire went
away upstairs with bitterness as well as sorrow in his heart.
When lights were brought, Molly was struck with the change in
Osborne. He looked haggard and worn; perhaps with travelling and
anxiety. Not quite such a dainty gentleman either, as Molly had
thought him, when she had last seen him calling on her stepmother,
two months before. But she liked him better now. The tone of his
remarks pleased her more. He was simpler, and less ashamed of showing
his feelings. He asked after Roger in a warm, longing kind of way.
Roger was out: he had ridden to Ashcombe to transact some business
for the Squire. Osborne evidently wished for his return; and hung
about restlessly in the drawing-room after he had dined.