"Lucky you, to have seen so much already," says Molly, presently, with an envious sigh; "and yet," with a view to self-support, "what good has it done you? Not one atom. After all your traveling you can do nothing greater than fall absurdly in love with a village maiden. Will your father call that enlarging your mind?" "I hope so," concealing his misgivings on the point. "But why put it so badly? Instead of village maiden, say the loveliest girl I ever met." "What!" cries Molly, the most naive delight and satisfaction animating her tone; "after going through France, Germany, Italy, and India, you can honestly say I am the loveliest woman you ever met?" "You put it too mildly," says Luttrell, raising himself on his elbow to gaze with admiration at the charming face above him, "I can say more. You are ten thousand times the loveliest woman I ever met." Molly smiles, nay, more, she fairly dimples. Try as she will and does, she cannot conceal the pleasure it gives her to hear her praises sung. "Why, then I am a 'belle,' a 'toast,'" she says, endeavoring unsuccessfully to see her image in the little basin of water that has gathered at the foot of the rocks; "while you," turning to run five white fingers over his hair caressingly, and then all down his face, "you are the most delightful person I ever met. It is so easy to believe what you tell one, and so pleasant. I have half a mind to--kiss you!" "Don't stop there: have a whole mind," says Luttrell, eagerly. "Kiss me at once, before the fancy evaporates." "No," holding him back with one lazy finger (he is easy to be repulsed), "on second thought I will reserve my caress. Some other time, when you are good,--perhaps. By the bye, Ted, did you really mean you would take me to Vienna?" "Yes, if you would care to go there." "Care? that is not the question. It will cost a great deal of money to get there, won't it? Shall we be able to afford it?" "No doubt the governor will stand to me, and give a check for the occasion," says Luttrell, warming to the subject. "Anyhow, you shall go, if you wish it." "Wait until your father hears you have wedded a pauper, and then you will see what a check you will get," says Miss Massereene, with a contemptible attempt at a joke. "A pun!" says Luttrell, springing to his feet with a groan; "that means a pinch. So prepare." "I forbid you," cries she, inwardly quaking, and, rising hurriedly, stands well away from him, with her petticoats caught together in one hand ready for flight. "I won't allow you. Don't attempt to touch me." "It is the law of the land," declares he, advancing on her, while she as steadily retreats. "Dear Teddy, good Teddy," cries she, "spare me this time, and I will never do it again--no, not though it should tremble forever on the tip of my tongue. As you are strong, be merciful. Do forgive me this once." "Impossible."