An uncomfortable suspicion flashed across his mind. He pulled her

round, and looked straight and piercingly into her innocent face. Her

colour came at his unwonted scrutiny, but her sweet eyes were filled

with wonder, rather than with any feeling which he dreaded to find.

For an instant he had doubted whether young red-headed Mr. Coxe's

love might not have called out a response in his daughter's breast;

but he was quite clear now.

"Molly, you're rude to begin with. I don't know how you're to make

your peace with Mrs. Hamley, I'm sure. And in the next place, do

you think you're wiser than I am; or that I don't want you at home,

if all other things were conformable? Stay where you are, and be

thankful."

Molly knew him well enough to be certain that the prolongation of her

visit at Hamley was quite a decided affair in his mind; and then she

was smitten with a sense of ingratitude. She left her father, and

went to Mrs. Hamley, and bent over her and kissed her; but she did

not speak. Mrs. Hamley took hold of her hand, and made room on the

sofa for her.

"I was going to have asked for a longer visit the next time you came,

Mr. Gibson. We are such happy friends, are not we, Molly? and now,

that this good little nephew of Miss Eyre's--"

"I wish he was whipped," said Mr. Gibson.

"--has given us such a capital reason, I shall keep Molly for a real

long visitation. You must come over and see us very often. There's a

room here for you always, you know; and I don't see why you should

not start on your rounds from Hamley every morning, just as well as

from Hollingford."

"Thank you. If you hadn't been so kind to my little girl, I might be

tempted to say something rude in answer to your last speech."

"Pray say it. You won't be easy till you have given it out, I know."

"Mrs. Hamley has found out from whom I get my rudeness," said Molly,

triumphantly. "It's an hereditary quality."

"I was going to say that proposal of yours that I should sleep at

Hamley was just like a woman's idea--all kindness, and no common

sense. How in the world would my patients find me out, seven miles

from my accustomed place? They'd be sure to send for some other

doctor, and I should be ruined in a month."

"Couldn't they send on here? A messenger costs very little."

"Fancy old Goody Henbury struggling up to my surgery, groaning at

every step, and then being told to just step on seven miles farther!

Or take the other end of society:--I don't think my Lady Cumnor's

smart groom would thank me for having to ride on to Hamley every time

his mistress wants me."




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