spent at the Towers.  She feared lest if she stayed at the Hall a shorter time the squire might be annoyed.  Yet how charming the place looked in its early autumnal glow as she drove up!  And there was Roger at the hall-door waiting to receive her, watching for her coming.  And now he retreated, apparently to summon his sister-in-law, who came now timidly forwards in her deep widow’s mourning, holding her boy in her arms as if to protect her shyness; but he struggled down, and ran towards the carriage, eager to greet his friend the coachman, and to obtain a promised ride.  Roger did not say much himself; he wanted to make Aimee feel her place as daughter of the house; but she was too timid to speak much, and she only took Molly by the hand and led her into the drawing-room, where, as if by a sudden impulse of gratitude for all the tender nursing she had received during her illness, she put her arms round Molly and kissed her long and well.  And after that they came to be friends.

It was nearly lunch-time, and the squire always made his appearance at that meal, more for the pleasure of seeing his grandson eat his dinner, than for any hunger of his own.  To-day Molly quickly saw the whole state of the family affairs.  She thought that even had Roger said nothing about them at the Towers, she should have found out that neither the father nor the daughter-in-law had as yet found the clue to each other’s characters, although they had now been living for several months in the same house.  Aimee seemed to forget her English in her nervousness, and to watch with the jealous eyes of a dissatisfied mother all the proceedings of the squire towards her little boy.  They were not of the wisest kind it must be owned; the child sipped the strong ale with evident relish, and clamoured for everything which he saw the others enjoying.  Aimee could hardly attend to Molly for her anxiety as to what her boy was doing and eating; yet she said nothing.  Roger took the end of the table opposite to that at which sate grandfather and grandchild.  After the boy’s first wants were gratified the squire addressed himself to Molly.

’Well! and so you can come here a-visiting though you have been among the grand folks.  I thought you were going to cut us, Miss Molly, when I heard you was gone to the Towers—­could not find any other place to stay at while father and mother were away, but an earl’s, eh?’

‘They asked me, and I went,’ said Molly; ’now you’ve asked me, and I’ve come here.’

‘I think you might ha’ known you’d be always welcome here, without waiting for asking.  Why, Molly!  I look upon you as a kind of a daughter more than Madam there!’ dropping his voice a little, and perhaps supposing that the child’s babble would drown the signification of his words.—­’Nay, you need not look at me so pitifully—­she does not follow English readily.’

‘I think she does!’ said Molly, in a low voice, not looking up, however, for fear of catching another glimpse at Aimee’s sudden forlornness of expression and deepened colour.  She felt grateful, as if for a personal favour, when she heard Roger speaking to Aimee the moment afterwards in the tender tones of brotherly friendliness; and presently these two were sufficiently engaged in a tete-a-tete conversation to allow Molly and the squire to go on talking.