‘My mother has been looking for you to come back for this last hour,’ he led the way to the drawing-room.  But Mrs. Hamley was not there; the squire had stopped to speak to the coachman about one of the horses; they two were alone.  Roger said,—­

’I am afraid you have had a very trying day.  I have thought of you several times, for I know how awkward these new relations are.’

‘Thank you,’ said she, her lips trembling, and on the point of crying again.  ’I did try to remember what you said, and to think more of others, but it is so difficult sometimes; you know it is, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said he, gravely.  He was gratified by her simple confession of having borne his words of advice in mind, and tried to act up to them.  He was but a very young man, and he was honestly flattered; perhaps this led him on to offer more advice, and this time it was evidently mingled with sympathy.  He did not want to draw out her confidence, which he felt might very easily be done with such a simple girl; but he wished to help her by giving her a few of the principles on which he had learnt to rely.  ‘It is difficult,’ he went on, ’but by-and-by you will be so much happier for it.’

‘No, I shan’t!’ said Molly, shaking her head.  ’It will be very dull when I shall have killed myself, as it were, and live only in trying to do, and to be, as other people like.  I don’t see any end to it.  I might as well never have lived.  And as for the happiness you speak of, I shall never be happy again.’

There was an unconscious depth in what she said, that Roger did not know how to answer at the moment; it was easier to address himself to the assertion of the girl of seventeen, that she should never be happy again.

‘Nonsense:  perhaps in ten years’ time you will be looking back on this trial as a very light one—­who knows?’

’I daresay it seems foolish; perhaps all our earthly trials will appear foolish to us after a while; perhaps they seem so now to angels.  But we are ourselves, you know, and this is now, not some time to come, a long, long way off.  And we are not angels, to be comforted by seeing the ends for which everything is sent.’

She had never spoken so long a sentence to him before; and when she had said it, though she did not take her eyes away from his, as they stood steadily looking at each other, she blushed a little; she could not have told why.  Nor did he tell himself why a sudden pleasure came over him as he gazed at her simple expressive face—­and for a moment lost the sense of what she was saying, in the sensation of pity for her sad earnestness.  In an instant more he was himself again.  Only it is pleasant to the wisest, most reasonable youth of one or two and twenty to find himself looked up to as a Mentor by a girl of seventeen.

’I know, I understand.  Yes:  it is now we have to do with.  Don’t let us go into metaphysics.’  Molly opened her eyes wide at this.  Had she been talking metaphysics without knowing it?  ’One looks forward to a mass of trials, which will only have to be encountered one by one, little by little.  Oh, here is my mother! she will tell you better than I can.’