"Will be as though it had never been, Mr. Walraven," Hugh Ingelow said, gravely. "Once more—good-night."
He quitted the room.
Sir Roger Trajenna turned to follow, a sad, crushed old man.
Mollie shyly and wistfully held out her hand.
"Try and forget me, Sir Roger—try and forgive me. I have been a foolish, flighty girl; I am sorry for it. I can say no more."
"No more!" Sir Roger said, with emotion, kissing the little hand. "God bless you!"
He, too, was gone.
Then Mollie turned and put her arms round her guardian's neck.
"Dear old guardy, I am sorry for you. Oh, I wish you had never married that hateful Blanche Oleander, but lived free and happy with your mother and your Mollie. But it's too late now; you must forgive her, I suppose. I detest her like the mischief; but we must all keep the peace."
"I suppose so, Mollie," with a dreary sigh. "You can't wish I had never married more than I do. It's a righteous punishment upon me, I suppose. I've been the greatest villain unhung to the only woman who ever did love me, and now this is retribution."