therewasagreattree，withabenchallroundthetrunk，midwaybetweenthechurchgatesandthelittleinn。Thewoodenstockswereclosetothegates。Mollyhadlongpassedthelimitofherrides，butsheknewthismustbethevillageofHamley，andtheymustbeveryneartothehall。Theyswunginatthegatesoftheparkinafewminutes，anddroveupthroughmeadow—grass，ripeningforhay，—itwasnograndaristocraticdeer—parkthis—totheoldred—brickhall；notthreehundredyardsfromthehigh—road。
　　Therehadbeennofootmansentwiththecarriage，butarespectableservantstoodatthedoor，evenbeforetheydrewup，readytoreceivetheexpectedvisitor，andtakeherintothedrawing—roomwherehismistresslayawaitingher。MrsHamleyrosefromhersofatogiveMollyagentlewelcome；shekeptthegirl’shandinhersaftershehadfinishedspeaking，lookingintoherface，asifstudyingit，andunconsciousofthefaintblushshecalledupontheotherwisecolourlesscheeks。’Ithinkweshallbegreatfriends，’saidshe，atlength。’Ilikeyourface，andIamalwaysguidedbyfirstimpressions。Givemeakiss，mydear。’Itwasfareasiertobeactivethanpassiveduringthisprocessof’swearingeternalfriendship，’andMollywillinglykissedthesweetpalefacehelduptoher。’Imeanttohavegoneandfetchedyoumyself；buttheheatoppressesme，andIdidnotfeeluptotheexertion。Ihopeyouhadapleasantdrive？’’Very，’saidMolly，withshyconciseness。’AndnowIwilltakeyoutoyourroom；Ihavehadyouputclosetome；
　　Ithoughtyouwouldlikeitbetter，eventhoughitwasasmallerroomthantheother。’Sheroselanguidly，andwrappingherlightshawlroundheryetelegantfigure，ledthewayupstairs。Molly’sbedroomopenedoutofMrsHamley’sprivatesitting—room；ontheothersideofwhichwasherownbedroom。SheshowedMollythiseasymeansofcommunication，andthen，tellinghervisitorshewouldawaitherinthesitting—room，sheclosedthedoor，andMollywasleftatleisuretomakeacquaintancewithhersurroundings。Firstofall，shewenttothewindowtoseewhatwastobeseen。Aflower—gardenrightbelow；ameadowofripegrassjustbeyond，changingcolourinlongsweeps，asthesoftwindblewoverit；greatoldforest—treesalittleononeside；and，beyondthemagain，tobeseenonlybystandingveryclosetothesideofthewindow—sill，orbyputtingherheadout，ifthewindowwasopen，thesilvershimmerofamere，aboutaquarterofamileoff。
　　Ontheoppositesidetothetreesandthemere，thelook—outwasboundedbytheoldwallsandhigh—peakedroofsoftheextensivefarm—buildings。
　　Thedeliciousnessoftheearlysummersilencewasonlybrokenbythesongofthebirds，andthenearerhumofbees。Listeningtothesesounds，whichenhancedtheexquisitesenseofstillness，andpuzzlingoutobjectsobscuredbydistanceorshadow，Mollyforgotherself，andwassuddenlystartledintoasenseofthepresentbyasoundofvoicesinthenextroom—someservantorotherspeakingtoMrsHamley。Mollyhurriedtounpackherbox，andarrangeherfewclothesintheprettyold—fashionedchestofdrawers，whichwastoserveherasdressing—tableaswell。Allthefurnitureintheroomwasasold—fashionedandaswell—preservedasitcouldbe。ThechintzcurtainswereIndiancalicoofthelastcentury—thecoloursalmostwashedout，butthestuffitselfexquisitelyclean。Therewasalittlestripofbedsidecarpeting，butthewoodenflooring，thusliberallydisplayed，wasoffinely—grainedoak，sofirmlyjoined，planktoplank，thatnograinofdustcouldmakeitswayintotheinterstices。Therewerenoneoftheluxuriesofmoderndays；nowriting—table，orsofa，orpier—glass。Inonecornerofthewallswasabracket，holdinganIndianjarfilledwithpot—pourri；
　　andthatandtheclimbinghoneysuckleoutsidetheopenwindowscentedtheroommoreexquisitelythananytoiletteperfumes。Mollylaidoutherwhitegown（oflastyear’sdateandsize）uponthebed，readyforthe（tohernew）operationofdressingfordinner，andhavingarrangedherhairanddress，andtakenouthercompanyworsted—work，’sheopenedthedoorsoftly，andsawMrsHamleylyingonthesofa。’Shallwestayuphere，mdear？Ithinkitispleasanterthandownbelow；
　　andthenIshallnothavetocomeupstairsagainatdressing—time。’’Ishalllikeitverymuch，’repliedMolly。’Ah！you’vegotyoursewing，likeagoodgirl，’saidMrsHamley。’Now，Idon’tsewmuch。Ilivealoneagreatdeal。Yousee，bothmyboysareatCambridge，andthesquireisoutofdoorsalldaylong—soIhavealmostforgottenhowtosew。Ireadagreatdeal。Doyoulikereading？’’Itdependsuponthekindofbook，’saidMolly。’I’mafraidIdon’tlike"steadyreading，"aspapacallsit。’’Butyoulikepoetry！’saidMrsHamley，almostinterruptingMolly。’Iwassureyoudid，fromyourface。HaveyoureadthislastpoemofMrsHemans？
　　ShallIreaditaloudtoyou？’Soshebegan。Mollywasnotsomuchabsorbedinlisteningbutthatshecouldglanceroundtheroom。Thecharacterofthefurniturewasmuchthesameasinherown。Old—fashioned，ofhandsomematerial，andfaultlesslyclean；theageandtheforeignappearanceofitgaveanaspectofcomfortandpicturesquenesstothewholeapartment。Onthewallstherehungsomecrayonsketches—portraits。ShethoughtshecouldmakeoutthatoneofthemwasalikenessofMrsHamley，inherbeautifulyouth。Andthenshebecameinterestedinthepoem，anddroppedherwork，andlistenedinamannerthatwasafterMrsHamley’sownheart。Whenthereadingofthepoemwasended，MrsHamleyrepliedtosomeofMolly’swordsofadmiration，bysaying，—’Ah！IthinkImustreadyousomeofOsborne’spoetrysomeday；undersealofsecrecy，remember；butIreallyfancytheyarealmostasgoodasMrsHemans’。’Tobe’nearlyasgoodasMrsHemans"wassayingasmuchtotheyoungladiesofthatday，assayingthatpoetryisnearlyasgoodasTennyson’swouldbeinthis。Mollylookedupwitheagerinterest。’MrOsborneHamley？Doesyoursonwritepoetry？’’Yes。IreallythinkImaysayheisapoet。Heisaverybrilliant，cleveryoungman，andhequitehopestogetafellowshipatTrinity。Hesaysheissuretobehighupamongthewranglers，andthatheexpectstogetoneoftheChancellor’smedals。Thatishislikeness—theonehangingagainstthewallbehindyou。’Mollyturnedround，andsawoneofthecrayonsketches—representingtwoboys，inthemostyouthfulkindofjacketsandtrousers，andfallingcollars。
　　Theelderwassittingdown，readingintently。Theyoungerwasstandingbyhim，andevidentlytryingtocalltheattentionofthereaderofftosomeobjectoutofdoors—outofthewindowoftheveryroominwhichtheyweresitting，asMollydiscoveredwhenshebegantorecognizethearticlesoffurniturefaintlyindicatedinthepicture。’Iliketheirfaces！’saidMolly。’Isupposeitissolongagonow，thatImayspeakoftheirlikenessestoyouasiftheyweresomebodyelse；maynotI？’’Certainly，’saidMrsHamley，assoonassheunderstoodwhatMollymeant。
　　’Tellmejustwhatyouthinkofthem，mydear；itwillamusemetocompareyourimpressionswithwhattheyreallyare。’’Oh！butIdidnotmeantoguessattheircharacters。Icouldnotdoit；
　　anditwouldbeimpertinent，ifIcould。IcanonlyspeakabouttheirfacesasIseetheminthepicture。’’Well！tellmewhatyouthinkofthem！’’Theeldest—thereadingboy—isverybeautiful；butIcan’tquitemakeouthisfaceyet，becausehisheadisdown，andIcan’tseetheeyes。ThatistheMrOsborneHamleywhowritespoetry？’’Yes。Heisnotquitesohandsomenow；buthewasabeautifulboy。Rogerwasnevertobecomparedwithhim。’’No；heisnothandsome。AndyetIlikehisface。Icanseehiseyes。Theyaregraveandsolemn—looking；butalltherestofhisfaceisrathermerrythanotherwise。Itlookstoosteadyandsober，toogoodaface，togotemptinghisbrothertoleavehislesson。’’Ah！butitwasnotalesson。Irememberthepainter，MrGreen，oncesawOsbornereadingsomepoetry，whileRogerwastryingtopersuadehimtocomeoutandhavearideinthehay—cart—thatwasthe"motive"ofthepicture，tospeakartistically。Rogerisnotmuchofareader；atleast，hedoesn’tcareforpoetry，andbooksofromance，orsentiment。Heissofondofnaturalhistory；andthattakeshim，likethesquire，agreatdealoutofdoors；andwhenheisin，heisalwaysreadingscientificbooksthatbearuponhispursuits。Heisagood，steadyfellow，though，andgivesusgreatsatisfaction，butheisnotlikelytohavesuchabrilliantcareerasOsborne。’Mollytriedtofindoutinthepicturethecharacteristicsofthetwoboys，astheywerenowexplainedtoherbytheirmother；andinquestionsandanswersaboutthevariousdrawingshungroundtheroomthetimepassedawayuntilthedressing—bellrangforthesixo’clockdinner。MollywasratherdismayedbytheoffersofthemaidwhomMrsHamleyhadsenttoassisther。’Iamafraidtheyexpectmetobeverysmart，’shekeptthinkingtoherself。’Iftheydo，they’llbedisappointed；that’sall。ButIwishmyplaidsilkgownhadbeenready。’Shelookedatherselfintheglasswithsomeanxiety，forthefirsttimeinherlife。Shesawaslight，leanfigure，promisingtobetall；acomplexionbrownerthancream—coloured，althoughinayearortwoitmighthavethattint；plentifulcurlyblackhair，tiedupinabunchbehindwitharose—
　　colouredribbon；long，almond—shaped，softgreyeyes，shadedbothaboveandbelowbycurlingblackeye—lashes。’Idon’tthinkIampretty，’thoughtMolly，assheturnedawayfromtheglass；’andyetIamnotsure。’Shewouldhavebeensure，if，insteadofinspectingherselfwithsuchsolemnity，shehadsmiledherownsweetmerrysmile，andcalledoutthegleamofherteeth，andthecharmofherdimples。Shefoundherwaydownstairsintothedrawing—roomingoodtime；shecouldlookabouther，andlearnhowtofeelathomeinhernewquarters。Theroomwasforty—feetlongorso，fittedupwithyellowsatinatsomedistantperiod；highspindle—leggedchairsandpembroke—tablesabounded。Thecarpetwasofthesamedateasthecurtains，andwasthreadbareinmanyplaces；
　　andinotherswascoveredwithdrugget。Standsofplants，greatjarsofflowers，oldIndianchinaandcabinetsgavetheroomthepleasantaspectitcertainlyhad。Andtoaddtoit，therewerefivehigh，longwindowsononesideoftheroom，allopeningtotheprettiestbitofflower—gardeninthegrounds—orwhatwasconsideredassuch—brilliant—coloured，geometrically—shapedbeds，convergingtoasun—dialinthemidst。Thesquirecameinabruptly，andinhismorningdress；hestoodatthedoor，asifsurprisedatthewhite—robedstrangerinpossessionofhishearth。Then，suddenlyrememberinghimself，butnotbeforeMollyhadbeguntofeelveryhot，hesaid，—’Why，Godblessmysoul，I’dquiteforgottenyou；you’reMissGibson，Gibson’sdaughter，aren’tyou？Cometopayusavisit？I’msureI’mverygladtoseeyou，mydear。’Bythistime，theyhadmetinthemiddleoftheroom，andhewasshakingMolly’shandwithvehementfriendliness，intendedtomakeupforhisnotknowingheratfirst。’Imustgoanddress，though，’hesaid，lookingathissoiledgaiters。
　　’Madamlikesit。It’soneofherfineLondonways，andshe’sbrokenmeintoitatlast。Verygoodplan，though，andquiterighttomakeoneselffitforladies’society。Doesyourfatherdressfordinner，MissGibson？’
　　Hedidnotstaytowaitforheranswer，buthastenedawaytoperformhistoilette。Theydinedatasmalltableinagreatlargeroom。Thereweresofewarticlesoffurnitureinit，andtheapartmentitselfwassovast，thatMollylongedforthesnugnessofthehomedining—room；nay，itistobefearedthat，beforethestatelydinneratHamleyHallcametoanend，sheevenregrettedthecrowdedchairsandtables，thehurryofeating，thequickunformalmannerinwhicheverybodyseemedtofinishtheirmealasfastaspossible，andtoreturntotheworktheyhadleft。Shetriedtothinkthatatsixo’clockallthebusinessofthedaywasended，andthatpeoplemightlingeriftheychose。Shemeasuredthedistancefromthesideboardtothetablewithhereye，andmadeallowancesforthemenwhohadtocarrythingsbackwardsandforwards；but，allthesame，thisdinnerappearedtoherawearisomebusiness，prolongedbecausethesquirelikedit，forMrsHamleyseemedtiredout。SheateevenlessthanMolly，andsentforfanandsmelling—
　　bottletoamuseherselfwith，untilatlengththetable—clothwasclearedaway，andthedessertwasputuponamahoganytable，polishedlikealooking—glass。Thesquirehadhithertobeentoobusytotalk，exceptabouttheimmediateconcernsofthetable，andoneortwoofthegreatestbreakstotheusualmonotonyofhisdays；amonotonyinwhichhedelighted，butwhichsometimesbecameoppressivetohiswife。Now，however，peelinghisorange，heturnedtoMolly，—’To—morrowyou’llhavetodothisformeMissGibson。’’ShallI？I’lldoitto—day，ifyoulike，sir。’’No；to—dayIshalltreatyouasavisitor，withallproperceremony。To—morrowIshallsendyouerrands，andcallyoubyyourChristianname。’’Ishalllikethat，’saidMolly。’IwaswantingtocallyousomethinglessformalthanMissGibson，’saidMrsHamley。’MynameisMolly。Itisanold—fashionedname，andIwaschristenedMary。
　　ButpapalikesMolly。’’That’sright。Keeptothegoodoldfashions，mydear。’’Well，ImustsayIthinkMaryisprettierthanMolly，andquiteasoldaname，too，’saidMrsHamley。’Ithinkitwas，’saidMolly，loweringhervoice，anddroppinghereyes，’becausemammawasMary，andIwascalledMollywhileshelived。’’Ah，poorthing，’saidthesquire，notperceivinghiswife’ssignstochangethesubject，’Irememberhowsorryeveryonewaswhenshedied；noonethoughtshewasdelicate，shehadsuchafreshcolour，tillallatonceshepoppedoff，asonemaysay。’’Itmusthavebeenaterribleblowtoyourfather，’saidMrsHamley，seeingthatMollydidnotknowwhattoanswer。’Ay，ay。Itcamesosudden，sosoonaftertheyweremarried。’’Ithoughtitwasnearlyfouryears，’saidMolly。’Andfouryearsissoon—isashorttimetoacouplewholooktospendingtheirlifetimetogether。EveryonethoughtGibsonwouldhavemarriedagain。’’Hush，’saidMrsHamley，seeinginMolly’seyesandchangeofcolourhowcompletelythiswasanewideatoher。Butthesquirewasnotsoeasilystopped。’Well—I’dperhapsbetternothavesaidit，butit’sthetruth；theydid。
　　He’snotlikelytomarrynow，soonemaysayitout。Why，yourfatherispastforty，isn’the？’’Forty—three。Idon’tbelieveheeverthoughtofmarryingagain，’saidMolly，recurringtotheidea，asonedoestothatofdangerwhichhaspassedby，withoutone’sbeingawareofit。’No！Idon’tbelievehedidmydear。Helookstomejustlikeamanwhowouldbeconstanttothememoryofhiswife。Youmustnotmindwhatthesquiresays。’’Ah！you’dbettergoaway，ifyou’regoingtoteachMissGibsonsuchtreasonasthatagainstthemasterofthehouse。’Mollywentintothedrawing—roomwithMrsHamley，butherthoughtsdidnotchangewiththeroom。Shecouldnothelpdwellingonthedangerwhichshefanciedshehadescaped，andwasastonishedatherownstupidityatneverhavingimaginedsuchapossibilityasherfather’ssecondmarriage。ShefeltthatshewasansweringMrsHamley’sremarksinaveryunsatisfactorymanner。’Thereispapa，withthesquire！’shesuddenlyexclaimed。Theretheywerecomingacrosstheflower—gardenfromthestable—yard，herfatherswitchinghisbootswithhisridingwhip，inordertomakethempresentableinMrsHamley’sdrawing—room。Helookedsoexactlylikehisusualself，hishome—self，thattheseeinghiminthefleshwasthemostefficaciouswayofdispellingthephantomfearsofasecondwedding，whichwerebeginningtoharasshisdaughter’smind；andthepleasantconvictionthathecouldnotresttillhehadcomeovertoseehowshewasgoingoninhernewhome，stoleintoherheart，althoughhespokebutlittletoher，andthatlittlewasallinajokingtone。Afterhehadgoneaway，thesquireundertooktoteachhercribbage；andshewashappyenoughnowtogivehimallherattention。
　　Hekeptonprattlingwhiletheyplayed；sometimesinrelationtothecards；
　　atotherstellingherofsmalloccurrenceswhichhethoughtmightinteresther。’Soyoudon’tknowmyboys，evenbysight。Ishouldhavethoughtyouwouldhavedone，fortheyarefondenoughofridingintoHollingford；andIknowRogerhasoftenenoughbeentoborrowbooksfromyourfather。Rogerisascientificsortofafellow。Osborneisclever，likethismother。Ishouldnotwonderifhepublishedabooksomeday。You’renotcountingright，MissGibson。Why，Icouldcheatyouaseasilyaspossible。’Andsoon，tillthebutlercameinwithasolemnlook，placedalargeprayer—bookbeforehismaster，whohuddledthecardsawayinahurry，asifcaughtinanincongruousemployment；andthenthemaidsandmentroopedintoprayers—thewindowswerestillopen，andthesoundsofthesolitarycorncrake，andtheowlhootinginthetrees，mingledwiththewordsspoken。Thentobed；andsoendedtheday。Mollylookedoutofherchamberwindow—leaningonthesill，andsnuffingupthenightodoursofthehoneysuckle。Thesoftvelvetdarknesshideverythingthatwasatanydistancefromher；althoughshewasasconsciousoftheirpresenceasifshehadseenthem。’IthinkIshallbeveryhappyhere，’wasinMolly’sthoughts，assheturnedawayatlength，andbegantoprepareforbed。Beforelongthesquire’swords，relatingtoherfather’ssecondmarriage，cameacrossher，andspoiltthesweetpeaceofherfinalthoughts。’Whocouldhehavemarried？’sheaskedherself。’MissEyre？MissBrowning？MissPhoebe？MissGoodenough？’
　　Onebyone，eachofthesewasrejectedforsufficientreasons。Yettheunsatisfiedquestionrankledinhermind，anddartedoutofambushtodisturbherdreams。MrsHamleydidnotcomedowntobreakfast；andMollyfoundout，withalittledismay，thatthesquireandsheweretohaveittete—a—tete。
　　Onthisfirstmorningheputasidehisnewspapers—oneanoldestablishedToryjournal，withallthelocalandcountynews，whichwasthemostinterestingtohim；theothertheMorningChronicle，whichhecalledhisdoseofbitters，andwhichcalledoutmanyastrongexpressionandtolerablypungentoath。To—day，however，hewas’onhismanners，’asheafterwardsexplainedtoMolly；andheplungedabout，tryingtofindgroundforaconversation。
　　Hecouldtalkofhiswifeandhissons，hisestate，andhismodeoffarming；
　　histenants，andthemismanagementofthelastcountyelection。Molly’sinterestswereherfather，MissEyre，hergardenandpony；inafainterdegreetheMissBrownings，theCumnorCharitySchool，andthenewgownthatwastocomefromMissRose’s；intothemidstofwhichtheonegreatquestion，’Whowasitthatpeoplethoughtitwaspossiblepapamightmarry？’
　　keptpoppingupintohermouth，likeatroublesomeJack—in—the—box。Forthepresent，however，thelidwassnappeddownupontheintruderasoftenasheshowedhisheadbetweenherteeth。Theywereverypolitetoeachotherduringthemeal；anditwasnotalittletiresometoboth。Whenitwasendedthesquirewithdrewintohisstudytoreadtheuntastednewspapers。
　　ItwasthecustomtocalltheroominwhichSquireHamleykepthiscoats，boots，andgaiters，hisdifferentsticksandfavouritespud，hisgunandfishing—rods，thestudy。Therewasabureauinit，andathree—corneredarm—chair，butnobookswerevisible。Thegreaterpartofthemwerekeptinalarge，musty—smellingroom，inanunfrequentedpartofthehouse；
　　sounfrequentedthatthehousemaidoftenneglectedtoopenthewindow—shutters，whichlookedintoapartofthegroundsover—grownwiththeluxuriantgrowthofshrubs。Indeed，itwasatraditionintheservants’hallthat，inthelatesquire’stime—hewhohadbeenpluckedatcollege—thelibrarywindowshadbeenboardeduptoavoidpayingthewindow—tax。Andwhenthe’younggentlemen’wereathomethehousemaid，withoutasingledirectiontothateffect，wasregularinherchargeofthisroom；openedthewindowsandlightedfiresdaily，anddustedthehandsomely—boundvolumes，whichwerereallyaveryfaircollectionofthestandardliteratureinthemiddleofthelastcentury。Allthebooksthathadbeenpurchasedsincethattimewereheldinsmallbook—casesbetweeneachtwoofthedrawing—roomwindows，andinMrsHamley’sownsitting—roomupstairs。Thoseinthedrawing—roomwerequiteenoughtoemployMolly；indeedshewassodeepinoneofSirWalterScott’snovelsthatshejumpedasifshehadbeenshot，whenanhourorsoafterbreakfastthesquirecametothegravel—pathoutsideoneofthewindows，andcalledtoaskherifshewouldliketocomeoutofdoorsandgoaboutthegardenandhome—fieldswithhim。’Itmustbealittledullforyou，mygirl，allbyyourself，withnothingbutbookstolookat，inthemorningshere；butyousee，madamhasafancyforbeingquietinthemornings：shetoldyourfatheraboutit，andsodidI，butIfeltsorryforyouallthesame，whenIsawyousittingonthegroundallaloneinthedrawing—room。’MollyhadbeenintheverymiddleoftheBrideofLammermoor，andwouldgladlyhavestayedin—doorstofinishit，butshefeltthesquire’skindnessallthesame。Theywentinandoutofold—fashionedgreenhouses，overtrimlawns，thesquireunlockedthegreatwalledkitchen—garden，andwentaboutgivingdirectionstogardeners；andallthetimeMollyfollowedhimlikealittledog，hermindquitefullof’Ravenswood’and’LucyAshton。’
　　Presently，everyplacenearthehousehadbeeninspectedandregulated，andthesquirewasmoreatlibertytogivehisattentiontohiscompanion，astheypassedthroughthelittlewoodthatseparatedthegardensfromtheadjoiningfields。Molly，too，pluckedawayherthoughtsfromtheseventeenthcentury；and，somehoworother，thatonequestion，whichhadsohauntedherbefore，cameoutofherlipsbeforeshewasaware—aliteralimpromptu，—’Whodidpeoplethinkpapawouldmarry？Thattime—longago—soonaftermammadied？’Shedroppedhervoiceverysoftandlow，asshespokethelastwords。Thesquireturnedrounduponher，andlookedatherface，heknewnotwhy。
　　Itwasverygrave，alittlepale，buthersteadyeyesalmostcommandedsomekindofanswer。’Whew，’saidhe，whistlingtogaintime；notthathehadanythingdefinitetosay，fornoonehadeverhadanyreasontojoinMrGibson’snamewithanyknownlady：itwasonlyalooseconjecturethathadbeenhazardedontheprobabilities—ayoungwidower，withalittlegirl。’Ineverheardofanyone—hisnamewasnevercoupledwithanylady’s—’twasonlyinthenatureofthingsthatheshouldmarryagain；hemaydoityet，foraughtIknow，andIdon’tthinkitwouldbeabadmoveeither。
　　Itoldhimso，thelasttimebutonehewashere。’’Andwhatdidhesay？’askedbreathlessMolly。’Oh：heonlysmiled，andsaidnothing。Youshouldn’ttakeupwordssoseriously，mydear。Verylikelyhemayneverthinkofmarryingagain，andifhedid，itwouldbeaverygoodthingbothforhimandforyou！’Mollymutteredsomething，asiftoherself，butthesquiremighthavehearditifhehadchosen。Asitwas，hewiselyturnedthecurrentoftheconversation。’Lookatthat！’hesaid，astheysuddenlycameuponthemere，orlargepond。Therewasasmallislandinthemiddleoftheglassywater，onwhichgrewtalltrees，darkScotchfirsinthecentre，silveryshimmeringwillowsclosetothewater’sedge。’Wemustgetyoupuntedoverthere，someofthesedays。I’mnotfondofusingtheboatatthistimeoftheyear，becausetheyoungbirdsarestillinthenestsamongthereedsandwater—plants；
　　butwe’llgo。Therearecootsandgrebes。’’Oh，look，there’saswan！’’Yes；therearetwopairofthemhere。Andinthosetreesthereisbotharookeryandaheronry；theheronsoughttobeherebynow，forthey’reofftotheseainAugust，butIhavenotseenoneyet。Stay！isnotthatone—thatfellowonastone，withhislongneckbentdown，lookingintothewater？’’Yes！Ithinkso。Ihaveneverseenaheron，onlypicturesofthem。’’Theyandtherooksarealwaysatwar，whichdoesnotdoforsuchnearneighbours。Ifbothheronsleavethenesttheyarebuilding，therookscomeandtearittopieces；andonceRogershowedmealongstragglingfellowofaheron，withaflightofrooksafterhim，withnofriendlypurposeintheirminds，I’llbebound。Rogerknowsadealofnaturalhistory，andfindsoutqueerthingssometimes。Hewouldhavebeenoffadozentimesduringthiswalkofours，ifhe’dbeenhere；hiseyesarealwayswanderingabout，andseetwentythingswhereIonlyseeone。Why！Ihaveknownhimboltintoacopsebecausehesawsomethingfifteenyardsoff—someplant，maybe，whichhewouldtellmewasveryrare，thoughIshouldsayI’dseenitsmarrowateveryturninthewoods；and，ifwecameuponsuchathingasthis，’touchingadelicatefilmofacobwebuponaleafwithhisstick，ashespoke，’why，hecouldtellyouwhatinsectorspidermadeit，andifitlivedinrottenfir—wood，orinacrannyofgoodsoundtimber，ordeepdownintheground，orupinthesky，oranywhere。Itisapitytheydon’ttakehonoursinNaturalHistoryatCambridge。Rogerwouldbesafeenoughiftheydid。’’MrOsborneHamleyisveryclever，ishenot？’Mollyasked，timidly。’Oh，yes。Osborne’sabitofagenius。HismotherlooksforgreatthingsfromOsborne。I’mratherproudofhimmyself。He’llgetaTrinityfellowship，iftheyplayhimfair。AsIwassayingatthemagistrates’meetingyesterday，"I’vegotasonwhowillmakeanoiseatCambridge，orI’mverymuchmistaken。"