in a pleased, confidential tone, Miss Amherst being
distinctly unpopular among the domestics, small and great. "Mr. Amherst
he sent her to the Latouches' for a week,--against her will, I must
say. And the captain, he has gone abroad."

"Has he?" Surprised.

"Yes, quite suddent like, and no one the wiser why. When last he come
home, after being away a whole day, he seemed to me daft like,--quite,"
says Mrs. Nesbitt, raising her eyes and hands, whose cozy plumpness
almost conceals the well-worn ring that for twenty years of widowhood
has rested there alone, "quite as though he had took leave of his
senses."

"Yes?" says Molly, in a faltering tone, feeling decidedly guilty.

"Ah, indeed, Miss Massereene, and so 'twas. But you are tired, my dear,
no doubt, and a'most faint for a glass of wine. Come and take off your
things and rest yourself a bit, while I tell Mr. Amherst of your
arrival."

In half an hour, refreshed and feeling somewhat bolder, Molly descends,
and, gaining the library door, where her grandfather awaits her, she
opens it and enters.

As, pale, slender, black-robed, she advances to his side, Mr. Amherst
looks up.

"You have come," he says, holding out his hand to her, but not rising.
There is a most unusual nervousness and hesitancy about his manner.

"Yes. You wrote for me, and I came," she answers simply, stooping, as
in duty bound, to press her lips to his cheek.

"Are you well?" he asks, scrutinizingly, struck by the difference in
her appearance since last he saw her.

"Yes, thank you, quite well."

"I am sorry to see you in such trouble." There is a callousness about
the way in which these words are uttered that jars upon Molly. She
remembers on the instant all his narrow spleen toward the one now gone.

"I am,--in sore trouble," she answers, coldly.

A pause. Mr. Amherst, although apparently full of purpose, clearly
finds some difficulty about proceeding. Molly is waiting in impatient
silence.

"You wished to speak to me, grandpapa?" she says, at length.

"Yes,--yes. Only three days ago I heard you had been left--badly
provided for. Is this so?"

"It is."

"And that"--speaking slowly--"you had made up your mind to earn your
own living. Have I still heard correctly?"

"Quite correctly. Mr. Buscarlet would be sure to give you a true
version of the case."

"The news has upset me." For the first time he turns his head and
regards her with a steady gaze. "I particularly object to y