matter of the most perfect indifference to Molly. She
has been bred in a very sound contempt for the hard old man who so
cruelly neglected her mother,--the poor mother whose love she never
missed, so faithfully has John fulfilled her dying wishes. There is no
poverty about this love, in which she has grown and strengthened: it is
rich, all-sufficing. Even Letitia's coming only added another ray to
its brightness.

They are a harmonious family, the Massereenes; they blend; they seldom
disagree. Letitia, with her handsome English face, her tall,
_posee_ figure, and ready smile, makes a delicious centre-piece;
John a good background; Molly a bit of perfect sunlight; the children
flecks of vivid coloring here and there. They are an easy,
laughter-loving people, with a rare store of contentment. They are much
affected by those in their immediate neighborhood. Their servants have
a good time of it. They are never out of temper when dinner is a
quarter of an hour late. They all very much admire Molly, and Molly
very much agrees with them. They are fond of taking their tea in summer
in the open air; they are not fond of over-early rising; they never
bore you with a description of the first faint beams of dawn; they fail
to see any beauty in the dew at five o'clock in the morning; they are
very reasonable people.

Yet the morning after his arrival, Luttrell, jumping out of his bed at
eight o'clock, finds, on looking out of his window that overhangs the
garden, Flora already among her flowers. Drawing back hastily,--he is a
modest young man,--he grows suddenly energetic and makes good speed
with his toilet.

When he is half dressed--that is, when his hair is brushed; but as yet
his shirt is guiltless of a waistcoat--he cannot refrain from looking
forth again, to see if she may yet be there, and, looking, meets her
eyes.

He is slightly abashed; she is not. Mr. Massereene in his shirt and
trousers is a thing very frequently seen at his window during the
summer mornings. Mr. Luttrell presents much the same appearance. It
certainly does occur to Molly that of the two men the new-comer is
decidedly the better looking of the two, whereat, without any treachery
toward John, she greatly rejoices. It does not occur to her that a
blush at this moment would be a blush in the right place. On the
contrary, she nods gayly at him, and calls out:

"Hurry! You cannot think what a delicious morning it is." And then goes
on with her snippi