20 MOLLY BAWN.
' Is there 1' says Luttrell gloomily, and with much dis¬
At length they gain the wished-for top. They stand
together, Molly with her usually pale cheeks a little flushed
by the exercise, but otherwise calm and collected; Luttrell
decidedly the worse for wear. And, yes, there actually is a
breeze —a sighing, rustling, unmistakable breeze, that rushes
through their hair and through their fingers, and is as a
draught from Olympus.
' There, didn't I tell you ?' cries Molly with all the
suspicious haste and joy that betrays how weak has been her
former hope. ' Now, do say you are glad I brought you up.'
' What need ? My only happiness is being with you,'
says the young man softly.
' See how beautiful the land is—as far as one can discern
all green and gold,' says she, unheeding his subdued tender¬
ness. ' Honestly, I do feel a deejD interest in farming; and
of all the grain that grows I dearly love the barley. First
comes the nice ploughed brown earth ; then the ragged bare
suspicion of green; then the strengthening and perfecting
of that green until the whole earth is hidden away; then
the soft, juicy look of the young blades nodding and waving
at each other in the wind, that seems almost tender of
them; and at Li.^t the fleecy, downy ears all whispering to¬
' When you speak in that tone you make me wish myself
a barleycorn,' says Tedcastle, smiling. ' Sit down here beside
me, will you, and tell me why your brother calls you " Molly
' I hardly know,' sinking down near him on the short,
cool grass; ' it was a name he gave me when I was a little
one. John has ever been my father, my mother, my all,'
says the girl, a soft and lovely dew of earnest affection com¬
ing into her eyes. ' Were I to love him all my life with
twice the love I now bear him, I would scarcely be grateful
' Happy John ! Molly ! What a pretty n.ame it is.'
* But not mine really. No. I was christened Eleanor,
after my poor mother, whose history you know. " Bawn "
means fair. " Fair Molly," ' says she, with a smile, turning
to him her face, that resembles nothing so much as a newly-
opened flower. ' I had hair quite golden when a child. Sec,'