Wives and Daughters | Page 7

she grew very weary, and wished to
return to the house, but did not know how, and felt afraid of
encountering all the strangers who would be there, unprotected by
either of the Miss Brownings. The hot sun told upon her head, and it
began to ache. She saw a great wide-spreading cedar-tree upon a burst
of lawn towards which she was advancing, and the black repose
beneath its branches lured her thither. There was a rustic seat in the
shadow, and weary Molly sate down there, and presently fell asleep.
She was startled from her slumbers after a time, and jumped to her feet.
Two ladies were standing by her, talking about her. They were perfect
strangers to her, and with a vague conviction that she had done
something wrong, and also because she was worn-out with hunger,
fatigue, and the morning's excitement, she began to cry.
'Poor little woman! She has lost herself; she belongs to some of the
people from Hollingford, I have no doubt,' said the oldest-looking of
the two ladies; she who appeared to be about forty, although she did not
really number more than thirty years. She was plain-featured, and had
rather a severe expression on her face; her dress was as rich as any
morning dress could be; her voice deep and unmodulated,--what in a
lower rank of life would have been called gruff; but that was not a word
to apply to Lady Cuxhaven, the eldest daughter of the earl and countess.
The other lady looked much younger, but she was in fact some years
the elder; at first sight Molly thought she was the most beautiful person
she had ever seen, and she was certainly a very lovely woman. Her
voice, too, was soft and plaintive, as she replied to Lady Cuxhaven,--
'Poor little darling! she is overcome by the heat, I have no doubt-- such
a heavy straw bonnet, too. Let me untie it for you, my dear.'
Molly now found voice to say,--'I am Molly Gibson, please. I came
here with the Miss Brownings;' for her great fear was that she should be
taken for an unauthorized intruder.
'The Miss Brownings?' said Lady Cuxhaven to her companion, as if
inquiringly.

'I think they were the two tall large young women that Lady Agnes was
taking about.'
'Oh, I dare say. I saw she had a number of people in tow;' then looking
again at Molly, she said, 'Have you had anything to eat, child, since you
came? You look a very white little thing; or is it the heat?'
'I have had nothing to eat,' said Molly, rather piteously; for, indeed,
before she fell asleep she had been very hungry.
The two ladies spoke to each other in a low voice; then the elder said in
a voice of authority, which, indeed, she had always used in speaking to
the other, 'Sit still here, my dear; we are going to the house, and Clare
shall bring you something to eat before you try to walk back; it must be
a quarter of a mile at least.' So they went away, and Molly sate upright,
waiting for the promised messenger. She did not know who Clare
might be, and she did not care much for food now; but she felt as if she
could not walk without some help. At length she saw the pretty lady
coming back, followed by a footman with a small tray.
'Look how kind Lady Cuxhaven is,' said she who was called Clare. 'She
chose out this little lunch herself; and now you must try and eat it, and
you'll be quite right when you've had some food, darling--You need not
stop, Edwards; I will bring the tray back with me.'
There was some bread, and some cold chicken, and some jelly, and a
glass of wine, and a bottle of sparkling water, and a bunch of grapes;
Molly put out her trembling little hand for the water; but she was too
faint to hold it. Clare put it to her mouth, and she took a long draught
and was refreshed. But she could not eat; she tried, but she could not;
her headache was too bad. Clare looked bewildered. 'Take some grapes,
they will be the best for you; you must try and eat something, or I don't
know how I shall get you to the house.'
'My head aches so,' said Molly, lifting her heavy eyes wistfully.
'Oh, dear, how tiresome!' said Clare, still in her sweet gentle voice, not
at all as if she was angry, only expressing an obvious truth. Molly felt

very guilty and very unhappy. Clare went on, with a shade of asperity
in her tone: 'You see, I don't know what to do with you here if you don't
eat