Here conversation fails them. For once they are honestly dismayed, and keep their eyes fixed in anxious expectation on the bedchamber of their host. Will Marcia never come?
At length the door opens and she appears, looking pale and distraite. Her eyes light angrily as they fall on Molly.
"Grandpapa is very much upset. He is ill. It was heartless,—a cruel trick," she says, rather incoherently. "He wishes to see you, Eleanor, instantly. You had better go to him."
"Must I?" asks Molly, who is quite colorless, and much inclined to cry.
"Unless you wish to add disobedience to your other unfeeling conduct," replies Marcia, coldly.
"No, no; of course not. I will go," says Molly, nervously.
With faltering footsteps she approaches the fatal door, whilst the others disperse and return once more to the drawing-room,—all, that is, except Lady Stafford, who seeks her own chamber, and Mr. Potts, who, in an agony of doubt and fear, lingers about the corridor, awaiting Molly's return.
As she enters her grandfather's room she finds him lying on a couch, half upright, an angry, disappointed expression on his face, distrust in his searching eyes.
"Come here," he says, harshly, motioning her with one finger to his side, "and tell me why you, of all others, should have chosen to play this trick upon me. Was it revenge?"
"Upon you, grandpapa! Oh, not upon you," says Molly, shocked. "It was all a mistake,—a mere foolish piece of fun; but I never thought you would have been the one to see me."