Two years of this companionship rapidly developed Molly. She did not now
merely condemn her aunt and her friends from pure ignorant dislike; she
knew from other testimony that they were rather stupid, ignorant,
badly-dressed, and provincial. But the chief change in her state of mind
lay in her hopes for her own future. Miss Carew had pointed out that, if
such a very large salary could be given for the governess, there must
surely be plenty of money for Molly's disposal later on. Why should not
Molly have a splendid and delightful life before her? And then poor
Miss Carew would suppress a sigh at her own prospects in which the pupil
never showed the least interest. It was before Miss Carew's second year
of teaching had come to an end, and while Molly was rapidly enlarging
her mental horizon, that the girl came to a very serious crisis in her
life.

Occupied with her first joy in knowledge, and with dreams of future
delights in the great world, she had not broken out into any very
freakish act of benevolence for a long time. One night, when Mrs.
Carteret and Miss Carew met at dinner time, they continued to wait in
vain for Molly. The servants hunted for her, Mrs. Carteret called up the
front stairs, and Miss Carew went as far as the little carpenter's shop
opening from the greenhouse to find her. It was a dark night, and there
was nothing that could have taken her out of doors, but that she was out
could not be doubted. The gardener and coachman were sent for, and
before ten o'clock the policeman in the village joined in the search,
and yet nothing was heard of Molly. Mrs. Carteret became really
frightened, and Miss Carew was surprised to see her betray so much
feeling as almost to lose her self-control. She kept walking up and
down, while odd spasmodic little sentences escaped from her every few
minutes.