What with his anger against his son, and his anxiety about his wife:  the difficulty of raising the money immediately required, and his irritation at the scarce-concealed inquiries made by strangers as to the value of his property, the poor squire was in a sad state.  He was angry and impatient with every one who came near him; and then was depressed at his own violent temper and unjust words.  The old servants, who, perhaps, cheated him in many small things, were beautifully patient under his upbraidings.  They could understand bursts of passion, and knew the cause of his variable moods as well as he did himself.  The butler, who was accustomed to argue with his master about every fresh direction as to his work, now nudged Molly at dinner-time to make her eat of some dish which she had just been declining, and explained his conduct afterwards as follows,—­

’You see, miss, me and cook had planned a dinner as would tempt master to eat; but when you say, “No, thank you,” when I hand you anything, master never so much as looks at it.  But if you takes a thing, and eats with a relish, why first he waits, and then he looks, and by-and-by he smells; and then he finds out as he’s hungry, and falls to eating as natural as a kitten takes to mewing.  That’s the reason, miss, as I gave you a nudge and a wink, which no one knows better nor me was not manners.’

Osborne’s name was never mentioned during these tete-a-tete meals.  The squire asked Molly questions about Hollingford people, but did not seem much to attend to her answers.  He used also to ask her every day how she thought that his wife was; but if Molly told the truth—­that every day seemed to make her weaker and weaker—­he was almost savage with the girl.  He could not bear it; and he would not.  Nay, once he was on the point of dismissing Mr. Gibson because he insisted on a consultation with Dr Nicholls, the great physician of the county.

’It’s nonsense thinking her so ill as that—­you know it’s only the delicacy she’s had for years; and if you can’t do her any good in such a simple case—­no pain—­only weakness and nervousness—­it is a simple case, eh?—­don’t look in that puzzled way, man!—­you’d better give her up altogether, and I’ll take her to Bath or Brighton,’ or somewhere for change, for in my opinion it’s only moping and nervousness.’

But the squire’s bluff florid face was pinched with anxiety, and worn with the effort of being deaf to the footsteps of fate as he said these words which belied his fears.

Mr. Gibson replied very quietly,—­

’I shall go on coming to see her, and I know you will not forbid my visits.  But I shall bring Dr Nicholls with me the next time I come.  I may be mistaken in my treatment; and I wish to God he may say I am mistaken in my apprehensions.’