"My dear child, she's getting past wanting any one! The keenness of
earthly feelings is deadened."
"Papa, that is worst of all. I cannot bear it. I won't believe it.
She may not ask for me again, and may quite forget me; but I'm sure,
to the very last, if the medicines don't stupefy her, she will look
round for the squire and her children. For poor Osborne most of all;
because he's in sorrow."
Mr. Gibson shook his head, but said nothing in reply. In a minute or
two he asked,--
"I don't like to take you away while you even fancy you can be of use
or comfort to one who has been so kind to you; but, if she hasn't
wanted you before Friday, will you be convinced, will you come home
willingly?"
"If I go then, I may see her once again, even if she hasn't asked for
me?" inquired Molly.
"Yes, of course. You must make no noise, no step; but you may go in
and see her. I must tell you, I'm almost certain she won't ask for
you."
"But she may, papa. I will go home on Friday, if she does not. I
think she will."
So Molly hung about the house, trying to do all she could out of the
sick-room, for the comfort of those in it. They only came out for
meals, or for necessary business, and found little time for talking
to her, so her life was solitary enough, waiting for the call that
never came. The evening of the day on which she had had the above
conversation with Roger, Osborne arrived. He came straight into
the drawing-room, where Molly was seated on the rug, reading by
firelight, as she did not like to ring for candles merely for her
own use. Osborne came in, with a kind of hurry, which almost made
him appear as if he would trip himself up, and fall down. Molly rose.
He had not noticed her before; now he came forwards, and took hold
of both her hands, leading her into the full flickering light, and
straining his eyes to look into her face.
"How is she? You will tell me--you must know the truth! I've
travelled day and night since I got your father's letter."
Before she could frame her answer, he had sate down in the nearest
chair, covering his eyes with his hand.
"She's very ill," said Molly. "That you know; but I don't think she
suffers much pain. She has wanted you sadly."
He groaned aloud. "My father forbade me to come."
"I know!" said Molly, anxious to prevent his self-reproach. "Your
brother was away, too. I think no one knew how ill she was--she had
been an invalid for so long."