Mr. Gibson came in rubbing his hands after his frosty ride. Molly
judged from the look in his eye that he had been fully informed of
the present state of things at the Hall by some one. But he simply
went up to and greeted the Squire, and waited to hear what was said
to him. The Squire was fumbling at the taper on the writing-table,
and before he answered much he lighted it, and signing to his friend
to follow him, he went softly to the sofa and showed him the sleeping
child, taking the utmost care not to arouse it by flare or sound.
"Well! this is a fine young gentleman," said Mr. Gibson, returning
to the fire rather sooner than the Squire expected. "And you've got
the mother here, I understand. Mrs. Osborne Hamley, as we must call
her, poor thing! It's a sad coming home to her; for I hear she knew
nothing of his death." He spoke without exactly addressing any one,
so that either Molly or the Squire might answer as they liked. The
Squire said,--
"Yes! She's felt it a terrible shock. She's upstairs in the best
bedroom. I should like you to see her, Gibson, if she'll let you. We
must do our duty by her, for my poor lad's sake. I wish he could have
seen his boy lying there; I do. I daresay it preyed on him to have to
keep it all to himself. He might ha' known me, though. He might ha'
known my bark was waur than my bite. It's all over now, though; and
God forgive me if I was too sharp. I'm punished now."
Molly grew impatient on the mother's behalf.
"Papa, I feel as if she was very ill; perhaps worse than we think.
Will you go and see her at once?"
Mr. Gibson followed her upstairs, and the Squire came too,
thinking that he would do his duty now, and even feeling some
self-satisfaction at conquering his desire to stay with the child.
They went into the room where she had been taken. She lay quite still
in the same position as at first. Her eyes were open and tearless,
fixed on the wall. Mr. Gibson spoke to her, but she did not answer;
he lifted her hand to feel her pulse; she never noticed.
"Bring me some wine at once, and order some beef-tea," he said to
Molly.
But when he tried to put the wine into her mouth as she lay there on
her side, she made no effort to receive or swallow it, and it ran out
upon the pillow. Mr. Gibson left the room abruptly; Molly chafed the
little inanimate hand; the Squire stood by in dumb dismay, touched in
spite of himself by the death-in-life of one so young, and who must
have been so much beloved.