"Come out," whispers Molly, slipping her hand into her lover's (she minds John and Letitia about as much as she minds the tables and chairs); "the rain has ceased; and see what a beautiful sun. I have any amount of things to say to you, and a whole volume of questions to ask about my detested _grand-pere_. So freshen your wits. But first before we go"--mischievously, and with a little nod full of reproof--"I really think you ought to apologize to John for your scandalous behavior of this morning." "Molly, I predict this glorious future for you," says her brother: "that you will be returned to me from Herst Royal in disgrace." * * * * * When they have reached the summer-house in the garden, whither they have wended their way, with a view to shade (as the sun, having been debarred from shining for so many hours, is now exerting itself to the utmost to make up for lost time), Luttrell draws from his pocket the identical parcel delivered to him by Sarah, and, holding it out to Molly, says, somewhat shamefacedly: "Here is something for you." "For me?" coloring with surprise and pleasant expectation. She is a being so unmistakably delighted with anything she receives, be it small or great, that it is an absolute joy to give to her. "What is it?" "Open it and see. I have not seen it myself yet, but I hope it will please you." Off comes the wrapper; a little leather case is disclosed, a mysterious fastener undone, and there inside, in its velvet shelter, lies an exquisite diamond ring that glistens and flashes up into her enchanted eyes. "Oh, Teddy! it cannot be for me," she says, with a little gasp that speaks volumes; "it is too beautiful. Oh, how good of you to think of it! And how did you know that if there is one thing on earth which I love it is a ring? And _such_ a ring! You wicked boy, I do believe you have spent a fortune on it." Yet in reality she hardly guesses the full amount of the generous sum that has been so willingly expended on that glittering hoop. "I am glad you like it," he says, radiant at her praise. "I think it is pretty." "'Pretty' is a poor word. It is far too handsome. I would scold you for your extravagance, but I have lost the power just now. And do you know," raising her soft, flushed face to her lover,--"I never had a ring before in my life, except a very old-fashioned one of my mother's, an ancient square, you know, with hair in the centre, and all around it big pearls, that are anything but pearly now, as they have grown quite black. Thank you a thousand times."