of Molly. Mrs. Carteret became really
frightened, and Miss Carew was surprised to see her betray so much
feeling as almost to lose her self-control. She kept walking up and
down, while odd spasmodic little sentences escaped from her every few
minutes.

"How could I answer for it to John if his girl came to any harm?" she
repeated several times.

She kept moving from room to room with a really scared expression. Once
the governess overheard her exclaim with an intensely bitter accent,
"Even her wretched mother would have taken more care of her!"

At that moment the door opened; Molly came quietly in, looking at them
both with bright, defiant eyes. From her hat to the edge of her skirt
she appeared to be one mass of light, brown mud; her right cheek was
bleeding from a scratch, and the sleeve of her coat was torn open.

"Where have you been to?" demanded Mrs. Carteret, in a voice that
trembled from the reaction of fear to anger.

"I went for a walk, and I found a man lying half in the water in
Brown-rushes pond; he had evidently fallen in drunk. I got him out after
nearly falling in myself, and then I had to get some one to look after
him. They took him in at Brown-rushes farm, and I found out who he was
and went to tell his wife, who is ill, that he was quite safe. I stayed
a little while with her, and then I came home. I have walked about
twenty miles, and, as you can see, I have had several tumbles, and I am
very tired."

Molly's voice had been very quiet, but very distinct, and her look and
bearing were full of an unspoken defiance.

"And you never thought whether I should be frightened meanwhile?" said
Mrs. Carteret.

"Frightened about me?" said Molly in astonishment.

"You had no thought for _my_ anxiety--the strain on _my_ nerves," her
aunt went on.

"I thought you might be angry, but I never for a moment thought you
would be frightened."

Miss Carew looked from one to the other in alarm and perplexity. She
felt for them both, for the woman who had been startled by the extent of
her fears, and was the more angry in consequence, and for Molly, who
betrayed her utter want of belief in any kind of feeling on Mrs.
Carteret's part.

"If you do not care for my feelings, or, indeed, believe in them, I wish
you would have some care for your own good name." A moment's pause
followed these words, and then in a low voice, but quite distinct, came
the conclusion, "You must remember that your mother's daughter