Then they heard the approaching carriage.

'Oh, papa,' said Molly, catching at his hand, 'I do so wish I was not
going, now that the time is come.'

'Nonsense; don't let us have any sentiment. Have you got your keys?
that's more to the purpose.'

Yes; she had got her keys, and her purse; and her little box was put up
on the seat by the coachman; and her father handed her in; the door was
shut, and she drove away in solitary grandeur, looking back and kissing
her hand to her father, who stood at the gate, in spite of his dislike
of sentiment, as long as the carriage could be seen. Then he turned
into the surgery, and found Mr. Coxe had had his watching too, and had,
indeed, remained at the window gazing, moonstruck, at the empty road,
up which the young lady had disappeared. Mr. Gibson startled him from
his reverie by a sharp, almost venomous, speech about some small
neglect of duty a day or two before. That night Mr. Gibson insisted on
passing by the bedside of a poor girl whose parents were worn-out by
many wakeful anxious nights succeeding to hard working days.

Molly cried a little, but checked her tears as soon as she remembered
how annoyed her father would have been at the sight of them. It was
very pleasant driving quickly along in the luxurious carriage, through
the pretty green lanes, with dog-roses and honeysuckles so plentiful
and rathe in the hedges, that she once or twice was tempted to ask the
coachman to stop till she had gathered a nosegay. She began to dread
the end of her little journey of seven miles; the only drawback to
which was, that her silk was not a true clan-tartan, and a little