Molly received the visitor alone.  Her mother was upstairs with a bronchial attack.

Lady Caryl, handsome, elderly, and aristocratic, entered the shabby drawing-room with her most gracious air.  She sat and talked for a while upon various casual subjects.  Molly poured out the tea and responded with her usual cheery directness.  Lady Caryl did not awe her.  Her father was wont to remark that Molly was impudent as a robin and brave as a lion.

After a slight pause in the conversation Lady Caryl turned from parish affairs with an abruptness somewhat characteristic of her, but by no means impetuous.

“Did you ever chance to meet Earl Wyverton, my dear Mary?” she inquired.  “He spent a few days here in the summer.”

“Yes,” said Molly.  “He came to see us several times.”

The beautiful colour rose slightly as she replied, but she looked straight at her questioner with a directness almost boyish.

“Ah!” said Lady Caryl.  “I was away from the Manor at the time, or I should have asked him to stay there.  I have always liked him.”

“We like him too,” said Molly, simply.

“He is a gentleman,” rejoined Lady Caryl, with emphasis.  “And that makes his misfortune the more regrettable.”

“Misfortune!” echoed Molly.

She started a little as she uttered the word—­so little that none but a very keen observer would have noticed it.

“Ah!” said Lady Caryl.  “You have not heard, I see.  I suppose you would not hear.  But it has been the talk of the town.  They say he has lost practically every penny he possessed over some gigantic American speculation, and that to keep his head above water he will have to sell or let every inch of land he owns.  It is particularly to be regretted, as he has always taken his responsibilities seriously.  Indeed, there are many who regard his principles as eccentrically fastidious.  I am not of the number, my dear Mary.  Like you, I have a high esteem for him, and he has my most heartfelt sympathy.”

She ceased to speak, and there was a little pause.

“How dreadful!” Molly said then.  “It must be far worse to lose a lot of money than to be poor from the beginning.”

The flush had quite passed from her face.  She even looked slightly pale.

Lady Caryl laid down her cup and rose.  “That would be so, no doubt,” she said.  “I think I shall try to persuade him to come to us at the end of the year.  And your sister is to be married in January?  It will be quite an event for you all.  I am sure you are very busy—­even more so than usual, my dear Mary.”

She made her stately adieu and swept away.

After her departure Molly bore the teacups to the kitchen and washed them with less than her usual cheery rapidity.  And when the day’s work was done she sat for a long while in her icy bedroom, with the moonlight flooding all about her, thinking, thinking deeply.