"Really, Charles, considering that she is in your charge, I think you might have saved her from the chatter and patter of Mr. Watson; I can only stand it when I am in the strongest health."
Why was Molly in Sir Charles's charge? why? Then Roger remembered many little things that might serve to confirm the fancy he had got into his head; and he went to bed puzzled and annoyed. It seemed to him such an incongruous, hastily-got-up sort of engagement, if engagement it really was. On Saturday they were more fortunate: they had a long tête-à-tête in the most public place in the house—on a sofa in the hall where Molly was resting at Lady Harriet's command before going upstairs after a walk. Roger was passing through, and saw her, and came to her. Standing before her, and making pretence of playing with the gold-fish in a great marble basin close at hand,—
"I was very unlucky," said he. "I wanted to get near you last night, but it was quite impossible. You were so busy talking to Mr. Watson, until Sir Charles Morton came and carried you off—with such an air of authority! Have you known him long?"
Now this was not at all the manner in which Roger had pre-determined that he would speak of Sir Charles to Molly; but the words came out in spite of himself.
"No! not long. I never saw him before I came here—on Tuesday. But Lady Harriet told him to see that I did not get tired, for I wanted to come down; but you know I have not been strong. He is a cousin of Lady Harriet's, and does all she tells him to do."
"Oh! he is not handsome; but I believe he is a very sensible man."
"Yes! I should think so. He is so silent though, that I can hardly judge."
"He bears a very high character in the county," said Roger, willing now to give him his full due.
Molly stood up.
"I must go upstairs," she said; "I only sate down here for a minute or two because Lady Harriet bade me."