'It is an excellent idea,' he replied, inwardly wondering why it had not occurred to his mother. 'I am so grateful to you for suggesting it. I am quite sure my mother will not object; so by all means let us have this Rebecca.'
'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.