As if Mrs. Hamley was afraid of Molly’s remarks or questions, she began in her turn a hasty system of interrogatories.

’Now, dear child, tell me all; it’s no breach of confidence, for I shan’t mention it again, and I shan’t be here long.  How does it all go on—­the new mother, the good resolutions? let me help you if I can.  I think with a girl I could have been of use—­a mother does not know boys.  But tell me anything you like and will; don’t be afraid of details.’

Even with Molly’s small experience of illness she saw how much of restless fever there was in this speech; and instinct, or some such gift, prompted her to tell a long story of many things—­the wedding-day, her visit to Miss Brownings’, the new furniture, Lady Harriet, &c., all in an easy flow of talk which was very soothing to Mrs. Hamley, inasmuch as it gave her something to think about beyond her own immediate sorrows.  But Molly did not speak of her own grievances, nor of the new domestic relationship.  Mrs. Hamley noticed this.

‘And you and Mrs. Gibson get on happily together?’

‘Not always,’ said Molly.  ’You know we didn’t know much of each other before we were put to live together.’

‘I didn’t like what the squire told me last night.  He was very angry.’

That sore had not yet healed over; but Molly resolutely kept silence, beating her brains to think of some other subject of conversation.

‘Ah!  I see, Molly,’ said Mrs. Hamley; ’you won’t tell me your sorrows, and yet, perhaps, I could have done you some good.’

‘I don’t like,’ said Molly, in a low voice.  ’I think papa wouldn’t like it.  And, besides, you have helped me so much—­you and Mr. Roger Hamley.  I often, often think of the things he said; they come in so usefully, and are such a strength to me.’

’Ah, Roger! yes.  He is to be trusted.  Oh, Molly!  I’ve a great deal to say to you myself, only not now.  I must have my medicine and try to go to sleep.  Good girl!  You are stronger than I am, and can do without sympathy.’

Molly was taken to another room; the maid who conducted her to it told her that Mrs. Hamley had not wished her to have her nights disturbed, as they might very probably have been if she had been in her former sleeping-room.  In the afternoon Mrs. Hamley sent for her, and with the want of reticence common to invalids, especially to those suffering from long and depressing maladies, she told Molly of the family distress and disappointment.

She made Molly sit down near her on a little stool, and, holding her hand, and looking into her eyes to catch her spoken sympathy from their expression quicker than she could from her words, she said,—­