160 MOLLY BAWN.
'Faint heart,' says Teddy, flinging the remnant of his
cigar with fierce determination into the grate, ' never won
fair lady; she is mine so far, the fairest darling that ever
breathed, and be it selfish or otherwise, keep her I wiU if I
But he sighs as he utters the word ' can,* and finds his
couch, when at length he does seek it, by no means a bed of
While MoUy, the pretty cause of all this heart-burning,
lies in slumber, soft and sweet, and happy as can be, with
her ' red red' Ups apart and smUing; her breathing pure
and regular as a little chUd's ; and all her ' nut-brown' hair
like a silken garment round her,
Cecil Stafford, walking leisurely up and down her apart¬
ment, is feeling half frightened, half amused, at the news
conveyed to her by Mr, Potts, of her husband's arrival in
England, Now at last after these three years she may meet
him at any moment face to face.
Surely never was a story so odd, so strange as hers ! A
bride unknown, a wife whose face has never yet been seen !
' Well!' thinks CecU, as she seats herself while her maid
binds up her long fair hair, 'no use troubling about it
beforehand. What must be, must be. And at all events
the dreaded interview cannot be too soon, as until my return
to town, I believe I am pretty safe from him here.'
But in saying this, she reckons without her host in every
sense of the word.
Oh! beware, my lord! of jealousy ;
It is the green-eyed mcnster who doth mock
The meat it feeds on.—Othello.
Next day at luncheon, Mr, Amherst, having carefully
mapped out one of his agreeable Uttle surprises, and having
selected a moment when everyone is present, says to her
with a wicked gleam of anticipative amusement in hia
cunning old eyes :
' Sir Penthony is in England.'