'Shall I tell your mother about her?' 'Perhaps I had better speak to her first; there is no hurry, as you say. Really, Miss Ross, you have lifted a burden off my mind.' 'I am so glad!' with a smile. 'You see, Mr. Blake, it will be so nice for Mollie to have her mornings to herself. She has told me two or three times that she finds it impossible to work in the afternoon, there are so many interruptions; and by that time she is generally so tired--or stupid, as she calls it--that she cannot even add up her sums.' 'Oh, we will alter all that!' replied Cyril lightly. He had discharged his duty, and now he did not want to talk about Mollie any more. From the first he had always felt conscious of a feeling of well-being, of utter contentment, when he was in the presence of this girl; it made him happy only to be with her. But this evening they were so utterly alone; the whole world was shut out by those barriers of grassy lanes and still green meadows, with their groups of slowly-feeding cattle. The evening air was full of dewy freshness, and only the twittering of birds broke the stillness. A subtle sweetness seemed to distil through the young man's veins as he glanced at his companion; involuntarily, his voice softened. 'I wonder where you will be this time to-morrow?' he said, rather abruptly. 'We are to sleep at York, you know. Geraldine wants to see the Minster.' 'Oh yes, I remember; Captain Burnett told me;' and then he began questioning her about Braemar. Could she describe it to him? He had never been in Scotland, and he would like to picture the place to himself. He should ask Kester to send him a photograph or two. Audrey was quite willing to satisfy him. She had been there already, and had seen their cottage. She could tell him all about their two parlours, and the little garden running down to the beck. But Cyril's curiosity was insatiable; he wanted to know presently how she would employ herself and what books she would read. 'For you will have wet days,' he added--'saft days, I think they call them--and then time will hang heavily on your hands unless you have plenty of books.' 'Oh, Michael has seen to that,' she replied brightly. Somehow, Michael's name was perpetually cropping up. 'My cousin and I mean to do that,' or 'Michael means to help me with that,' until Cyril's face grew slightly lugubrious. True, he tried to console himself with the remembrance of Audrey's words that she and Geraldine looked upon Michael as a sort of brother; still, he never did quite approve of this sort of adopted relationship. It was always a mistake, he thought; and in time people found it out for themselves. Of course he was Miss Ross's cousin--or, rather, her father's cousin--but even that did not explain matters comfortably to his mind; and when a man has a Victoria Cross, and is looked upon in the light of a hero, it is a little difficult for other men not to envy him.