Soyou’retostophereto—night？Clare，don’tyouthinkwecouldfindsomeofthosebooksofengravingsthatwouldinterestMissGibson。’MrsKirkpatrickcameglidinguptotheplacewhereMollystood；andbeganpettingherwithprettywordsandactions，whileLadyCuxhaventurnedoverheavyvolumesinsearchofonethatmightinterestthegirl。’Poordarling！Isawyoucomeintothedining—room，lookingsoshy；andIwantedyoutocomenearme，butIcouldnotmakeasigntoyou，becauseLordCuxhavenwasspeakingtomeatthetime，tellingmeabouthistravels。

　　Ah，hereisanicebook—Lodge’sPortraits；nowI’llsitbyyouandtellyouwhotheyallare，andallaboutthem。Don’ttroubleyourselfanymore，dearLadyCuxhaven；I’lltakechargeofher；prayleavehertome！’Mollygrewhotterandhotterastheselastwordsmethercar。Iftheywouldonlyleaveheralone，andnotlabouratbeingkindtoher；would’nottroublethemselves’abouther！ThesewordsofMrsKirkpatrick’sseemedtoquenchthegratitudeshewasfeelingtoLadyCuxhavenforlookingforsomethingtoamuseher。But，ofcourse，itwasatrouble，andsheoughtnevertohavebeenthere。By—and—by，MrsKirkpatrickwascalledawaytoaccompanyLadyAgnes’song；

　　andthenMollyreallyhadafewminutes’enjoyment。Shecouldlookroundtheroom，unobserved，and，sure，neverwasanyplaceoutofaking’shousesograndandmagnificent。Largemirrors，velvetcurtains，picturesintheirgildedframes，amultitudeofdazzlinglightsdecoratedthevastsaloon，andthefloorwasstuddedwithgroupsofladiesandgentlemen，alldressedingorgeousattire。SuddenlyMollybethoughtherofthechildrenwhomshehadaccompaniedintothedining—room，andtowhoseranksshehadappearedtobelong，—wherewerethey？Gonetobedanhourbefore，atsomequietsignalfromtheirmother。Mollywonderedifshemightgo，too—ifshecouldeverfindherwaybacktothehavenofMrsKirkpatrick’sbedroom。

　　Butshewasatsomedistancefromthedoor；alongwayfromMrsKirkpatrick，towhomshefeltherselftobelongmorethantoanyoneelse。Far，too，fromLadyCuxhaven，andtheterribleLadyCumnor，andherjocoseandgood—naturedlord。SoMollysateon，turningoverpictureswhichshedidnotsee；herheartgrowingheavierandheavierinthedesolationofallthisgrandeur。

　　Presentlyafootmanenteredtheroom，andafteramoment’slookingabouthim，hewentuptoMrsKirkpatrick，whereshesateatthepiano，thecentreofthemusicalportionofthecompany，readytoaccompanyanysinger，andsmilingpleasantlyasshewillinglyaccededtoallrequests。ShecamenowtowardsMolly，inhercorner，andsaidtoher，—’Doyouknow，darling，yourpapahascomeforyou，andbroughtyourponyforyoutoridehome；soIshalllosemylittlebedfellow，forIsupposeyoumustgo。’Go！wasthereaquestionofitinMolly’smind，asshestoodupquivering，sparkling，almostcryingoutloud。Shewasbroughttohersenses，though，byMrsKirkpatrick’snextwords，’YoumustgoandwishLadyCumnorgood—night，youknow，mydear，andthankherladyshipforherkindnesstoyou，Sheisthere，nearthatstatue，talkingtoMrCourtenay。’Yes！shewasthere—fortyfeetaway—ahundredmilesaway！Allthatblankspacehadtobecrossed；andthenaspeechtobemade！’MustIgo？’askedMolly，inthemostpitifulandpleadingvoicepossible。’Yes；makehasteaboutit；thereisnothingsoformidableinit，isthere？’

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