Molly Bawn Part 19

Presently, however, he rises, and, crossing the room, stands over her, watching her white shapely fingers as they deftly fill up the holes in the little socks that lie in the basket beside her. She is so far _en rapport_ with him as to know that his manner betokens a desire for confidence.

"Have you anything to say to me, dear?" she asks, looking up and suspending her employment for the time being.

"Let.i.tia," begins he, thoughtfully, not to say solemnly, "it is quite two months since Luttrell first put in an appearance in this house.

Now, I don't wish to seem inhospitable,--far be it from me: a thirst for knowledge alone induces me to put the question,--but, _do_ you think he means to reside here permanently?"

"It is certainly very strange," says Let.i.tia, unmoved by his eloquence to even the faintest glimmer of a smile, so deep is her interest in the subject,--"the very oddest thing. If, now, it were a place where a young man could find any amus.e.m.e.nt, I would say nothing; but here! Do you know, John,"--mysteriously,--"I have my suspicions."

"No!" exclaims Mr. Ma.s.sereene, betraying the wildest curiosity in voice and gesture,--so wild as to hint at the possibility of its not being genuine. "You don't say so!"

"It has once or twice occurred to me----"

"Yes?"

"I have certainly thought----"

"Let.i.tia,"--with authority,--"don't think, or suspect, or let it occur to you any more: _say_ it."

"Well, then, I think he is in love with Molly."

John breaks into a heavy laugh.

"What it is to be a woman of penetration," says he. "So you have found that out. Now, that is where we men fail. But are you certain? Why do you think it?"

"I am almost convinced of it," Let.i.tia says, with much solemnity. "Last night I happened to be looking out of one of the windows that overhang the garden, and there in the moonlight (it was quite ten o'clock) I saw Molly give him a red rose; and he took it, and gazed at it as though he were going to devour it; and then he kissed it; and after that he kissed Molly's hand! Now, I don't think, John, unless a young man was--you know--eh?"

"I altogether agree with you. Unless a young man _was_, you know, why, he wouldn't--that's all. I am glad, however, he had the grace to stop at the hand,--that it was not Molly's lips he chose instead."

"My _dear_ John!"

"My darling Letty! have I said anything so very _outre_? Were you never kissed by a young man?"

"Only by you," returns Mrs. Ma.s.sereene, laughing apologetically, and blushing a rare delicate pink that would not have disgraced her at eighteen.

"Ah, you may well be excused, considering how you were tempted. It is not every day one meets---- By the bye, Letty, did you cease your eavesdropping at that point?"

"Yes; I did not like to remain longer."

"Then depend upon it, my dear, you did not see the last act in that drama."

"You surely do not think Molly----"

"I seldom trouble to think. I only know Luttrell is an uncommonly good-looking fellow, and that the moon is a white witch."

"He _is_ good-looking," says Let.i.tia, rising and growing troubled; "he is more than that,--he is charming. Oh, John! if our Molly were to fall in love with him, and grow unhappy about it, what would we do? I don't believe he has anything beyond his pay."

"He has something more than that, I know, but not much. The Luttrells have a good deal of spare cash throwing about among them."

"But what of that? And a poor man would be wretched for Molly. Remember what an expensive regiment he is in. Why, I suppose as it is he can hardly keep himself. And how would it be with a wife and a large family?"

"Oh, Let.i.tia! let us have the marriage ceremony first. Why on earth will you saddle the miserable man with a large family so soon? And wouldn't a small one do? Of what use to pile up the agony to such a height?"

"I think of no one but Molly. There is nothing so terrible as a long engagement, and that is what it will come to. Do you remember Sarah Annesley? She grew thinner and thinner day by day, and her complexion became positively yellow when Perceval went away. And her mother said it was suspense preying upon her."

"So they _said_, my dear; but we all _know_ it was indigestion."

"John,"--austerely,--"what is the exact amount of Mr. Luttrell's income?"

"About six hundred a year, I think."

"As much as that?" Slightly relieved. "And will his father allow him anything more?"

"Unless you insist upon my writing to Sir William, I could not tell you that."

"Six hundred a year is far too little."

"It is almost as much as we have."

"But you are not in the army, and you are not a fashionable young man."

"If you say that again I shall sue for a divorce. But seriously, Letty, perhaps you are exciting yourself about nothing. Who knows but they are indifferent to each other?"

"I fear they are not. And I will not have poor Molly made unhappy."

"Why not 'poor Luttrell'? It is far more likely as I see it."

"I don't want any one to be unhappy. And something must be done."

"Exactly." After a pause, with ill-concealed cowardice: "Will you do it?"

"Do what?"

"That awful 'something' that is to be done."

"Certainly not. It is your duty to--to--find out everything, and ask them both what they mean."

"Then I won't," declares John, throwing out his arms decisively. "I would not be bribed to do it. What! ask a man his intentions! I couldn't bring myself to do such a thing. How could I look him in the face again? They must fight the best battle they can for themselves, like every one else. I won't interfere."

"Very good. I shall speak to Molly. And I really think we ought to go and look them up. I have seen neither of them since breakfast time."

"The rain has ceased. Let us go out by the balcony," says Mr.

Ma.s.sereene, stepping through the open window. "I heard them in the school-room as I pa.s.sed."

Now, this balcony, as I have told you, runs along all one side of the house, and on it the drawing-room, school-room, and one of the parlor windows open. Thick curtains hang from them and conceal in part the outer world; so that when John and Letty stand before the school-room window to look in they do so without being themselves seen. And this, I regret to say, is what they see:

In the centre of the room a square table, and flying round and round it, with the tail of her white gown twisted over her right arm, is Miss Ma.s.sereene, with Mr. Luttrell in full chase after her.

"Well, upon my word!" says Mr. Ma.s.sereene, unable through bewilderment to think of any remark more brilliant.