They reached the grape arbour as he finished, and a minute later Abednego lead them into the library, where Kesiah placed Reuben in a comfortable chair and hastened to bring him a glass of wine from the sideboard.  At Molly’s entrance, Gay and Mr. Chamberlayne came forward to shake hands with her, while Mrs. Gay looked up from her invalid’s couch and murmured her name in a gentle, reproachful voice.  The pale blue circles around the little lady’s eyes and faintly smiling mouth were the only signs of the blighting experience through which she had passed.  As she turned her angelic gaze on old Jonathan’s daughter there was not an instant’s doubt in the minds of those about her that she would accept the blow with the suffering sweetness that enhanced her beauty.

“We wanted to give you a little reminder of us on your birthday, Molly,” she said, taking up an amethyst cross on a slender chain from the table beside her, “and Jonathan thought you would like a trinket to wear with your white dresses.”

“I was right, wasn’t I, cousin?” asked Gay, with his genial smile.

Mrs. Gay flushed slightly at the word, while Reuben cast a grateful glance at him over the untasted glass of wine in his hand.

Without drawing a step nearer, Molly stood there in the centre of the room, nervously twisting her handkerchief in and out of her fingers.  She was physically cramped by her surroundings, and the reproachful gentleness in Mrs. Gay’s face embarrassed her only less than did the intimate pleasantry of Jonathan’s tone.  Every detail of the library—­the richness and heaviness of the furniture, the insipid fixed smiles in the family portrait, the costly fragility of the china ornaments—­all these seemed to unite in some occult power which overthrew her self-possession and paralyzed her emotions.

Pitying her shyness, Gay took the chain from his mother’s hand, and, slipping it around Molly’s neck, fastened it under the bunch of curls at the back.  Then he patted her encouragingly on the shoulder, while he spoke directly to Reuben.

“It looks well on her don’t you think, Mr. Merryweather,” he inquired.

“Yes, it’s a pretty gift an’ she’s much obliged to all of you,” replied Reuben, with the natural dignity which never deserted him.  “She’s a good girl, Molly is,” he added simply.  “For all her quick words an’ ways thar ain’t a better girl livin’.”

“We are very sure of that,” said Mr. Chamberlayne, speaking in Gay’s place.  “She is a kinswoman any of us may be proud of owning.”  And going a step nearer to her, he began explaining her father’s wishes in the shortest words at his command.