Molly saw Sylvia, and came quickly across the orchard to meet her,

catching her feet in knots of grass as she hurried along.

'Well, lass!' said she, 'who'd ha' thought o' seeing yo' such a day

as it has been?' 'But it's cleared up now beautiful,' said Sylvia, looking up at the

soft evening sky, to be seen through the apple boughs. It was of a

tender, delicate gray, with the faint warmth of a promising sunset

tinging it with a pink atmosphere. 'Rain is over and gone, and I

wanted to know how my cloak is to be made; for Donkin 's working at

our house, and I wanted to know all about--the news, yo' know.' 'What news?' asked Molly, for she had heard of the affair between

the Good Fortune and the Aurora some days before; and, to tell

the truth, it had rather passed out of her head just at this moment.

'Hannot yo' heard all about t' press-gang and t' whaler, and t'

great fight, and Kinraid, as is your cousin, acting so brave and

grand, and lying on his death-bed now?' 'Oh!' said Molly, enlightened as to Sylvia's 'news,' and half

surprised at the vehemence with which the little creature spoke;

'yes; a heerd that days ago. But Charley's noane on his death-bed,

he's a deal better; an' mother says as he's to be moved up here next

week for nursin' and better air nor he gets i' t' town yonder.' 'Oh! I am so glad,' said Sylvia, with all her heart. 'I thought he'd

maybe die, and I should niver see him.' 'A'll promise yo' shall see him; that's t' say if a' goes on well,

for he's getten an ugly hurt. Mother says as there's four blue marks

on his side as'll last him his life, an' t' doctor fears bleeding i'

his inside; and then he'll drop down dead when no one looks for 't.' 'But you said he was better,' said Sylvia, blanching a little at

this account.

'Ay, he's better, but life's uncertain, special after gun-shot

wounds.' 'He acted very fine,' said Sylvia, meditating.

'A allays knowed he would. Many's the time a've heerd him say

"honour bright," and now he's shown how bright his is.' Molly did not speak sentimentally, but with a kind of proprietorship

in Kinraid's honour, which confirmed Sylvia in her previous idea of

a mutual attachment between her and her cousin. Considering this

notion, she was a little surprised at Molly's next speech.

'An' about yer cloak, are you for a hood or a cape? a reckon that's

the question.' 'Oh, I don't care! tell me more about Kinraid. Do yo' really think

he'll get better?' 'Dear! how t' lass takes on about him. A'll tell him what a deal of

interest a young woman taks i' him!' From that time Sylvia never asked another question about him. In a

somewhat dry and altered tone, she said, after a little pause-'I think on a hood. What do you say to it?' 'Well; hoods is a bit old-fashioned, to my mind. If 't were mine,

I'd have a cape cut i' three points, one to tie on each shoulder,

and one to dip down handsome behind. But let yo' an' me go to

Monkshaven church o' Sunday, and see Measter Fishburn's daughters,

as has their things made i' York, and notice a bit how they're made.

We needn't do it i' church, but just scan 'em o'er i' t' churchyard,

and there'll be no harm done. Besides, there's to be this grand

burryin' o' t' man t' press-gang shot, and 't will be like killing

two birds at once.' 'I should like to go,' said Sylvia. 'I feel so sorry like for the

poor sailors shot down and kidnapped just as they was coming home,

as we see'd 'em o' Thursday last. I'll ask mother if she'll let me

go.' 'Ay, do. I know my mother 'll let me, if she doesn't go hersen; for

it 'll be a sight to see and to speak on for many a long year, after

what I've heerd. And Miss Fishburns is sure to be theere, so I'd

just get Donkin to cut out cloak itsel', and keep back yer mind fra'

fixing o' either cape or hood till Sunday's turn'd.' 'Will yo' set me part o' t' way home?' said Sylvia, seeing the dying

daylight become more and more crimson through the blackening trees.




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