"It must be a little dull for you, my girl, all by yourself, with
nothing but books to look at, in the mornings here; but you see,
madam has a fancy for being quiet in the mornings: she told your
father about it, and so did I, but I felt sorry for you all the same,
when I saw you sitting on the ground all alone in the drawing-room."
Molly had been in the very middle of the _Bride of Lammermoor_, and
would gladly have stayed in-doors to finish it, but she felt the
squire's kindness all the same. They went in and out of old-fashioned
greenhouses, over trim lawns, the Squire unlocked the great walled
kitchen-garden, and went about giving directions to gardeners; and
all the time Molly followed him like a little dog, her mind quite
full of "Ravenswood" and "Lucy Ashton." Presently, every place near
the house had been inspected and regulated, and the Squire was more
at liberty to give his attention to his companion, as they passed
through the little wood that separated the gardens from the adjoining
fields. Molly, too, plucked away her thoughts from the seventeenth
century; and, somehow or other, that one question, which had so
haunted her before, came out of her lips before she was aware--a
literal impromptu,--
"Who did people think papa would marry? That time--long ago--soon
after mamma died?"
She dropped her voice very soft and low, as she spoke the last words.
The Squire turned round upon her, and looked at her face, he knew not
why. It was very grave, a little pale, but her steady eyes almost
commanded some kind of answer.
"Whew," said he, whistling to gain time; not that he had anything
definite to say, for no one had ever had any reason to join Mr.
Gibson's name with any known lady: it was only a loose conjecture
that had been hazarded on the probabilities--a young widower, with a
little girl.
"I never heard of any one--his name was never coupled with any
lady's--'twas only in the nature of things that he should marry
again; he may do it yet, for aught I know, and I don't think it would
be a bad move either. I told him so, the last time but one he was
here."
"And what did he say?" asked breathless Molly.
"Oh: he only smiled and said nothing. You shouldn't take up words so
seriously, my dear. Very likely he may never think of marrying again,
and if he did, it would be a very good thing both for him and for
you!"
Molly muttered something, as if to herself, but the Squire might have
heard it if he had chosen. As it was, he wisely turned the current of
the conversation.