Presently, every place near the house had been inspected and regulated, and the squire was more at liberty to give his attention to his companion, as they passed through the little wood that separated the gardens from the adjoining fields.Molly, too, plucked away her thoughts from the seventeenth century; and, somehow or other, that one question, which had so haunted her before, came out of her lips before she was aware - a literal impromptu, - 'Who did people think papa would marry? That time - long ago - soon after mamma died?' She dropped her voice very soft and low, as she spoke the last words.The squire turned round upon her, and looked at her face, he knew not why.
It was very grave, a little pale, but her steady eyes almost commanded some kind of answer.'Whew,' said he, whistling to gain time; not that he had anything definite to say, for no one had ever had any reason to join Mr Gibson's name with any known lady: it was only a loose conjecture that had been hazarded on the probabilities - a young widower, with a little girl.'I never heard of any one - his name was never coupled with any lady's - 'twas only in the nature of things that he should marry again; he may do it yet, for aught I know, and I don't think it would be a bad move either.