But Molly pushed her away with a sudden violence of repulsion. "Don't!" she said. She was crimson with shame and indignation. "Your husband this morning! Mine to-night! What do you take him for?"
"A man!" smiled Cynthia. "And therefore, if you won't let me call him changeable, I'll coin a word and call him consolable!" But Molly gave her back no answering smile. At this moment, the servant Maria entered the consulting-room, where the two girls were. She had a scared look.
"Isn't master here?" asked she, as if she distrusted her eyes.
"No!" said Cynthia. "I heard him go out. I heard him shut the front door not five minutes ago."
"Oh, dear!" said Maria. "And there's a man come on horseback from Hamley Hall, and he says as Mr. Osborne is dead, and that master must go off to the Squire straight away."
"Osborne Hamley dead!" said Cynthia, in awed surprise. Molly was out at the front door, seeking the messenger through the dusk, round into the stable-yard, where the groom sate motionless on his dark horse, flecked with foam, made visible by the lantern placed on the steps near, where it had been left by the servants, who were dismayed at this news of the handsome young man who had frequented their master's house, so full of sportive elegance and winsomeness. Molly went up to the man, whose thoughts were lost in recollection of the scene he had left at the place he had come from.
She laid her hand on the hot damp skin of the horse's shoulder; the man started.
"Is the doctor coming, Miss?" For he saw who it was by the dim light.
"He is dead, is he not?" asked Molly, in a low voice.
"I'm afeard he is,—leastways, there's no doubt according to what they said. But I've ridden hard! there may be a chance. Is the doctor coming, Miss?"