‘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?’