There is no hope. Steadily, certainly, she approaches her doom, and with flushed cheeks and eyes gleaming with laughter, makes a vain protest.
"Now I have you," says Luttrell, drawing an elaborate penknife from his pocket, in which all the tools that usually go to adorn a carpenter's shop fight for room. "Prepare for death, or--I give you your choice: I shall either cut your jugular vein or kiss you. Don't hurry. Say which you prefer. It is a matter of indifference to me."
"Cut every vein in my body first," cries Molly, breathless but defiant.
["Letitia," whispers John, "I feel I am going to laugh. What shall I do?"
"Don't," says Letitia, with stern promptitude. "That is what you will do. It is no laughing matter. I hope you are not going to make a jest of it, John."
"But, my dear, supposing I can't help it?" suggests he, mildly. "Our risible faculties are not always under our control."
"On an occasion such as this they should be."
"Letitia," says Mr. Massereene, regarding her with severity, "you are going to laugh yourself; don't deny it."
"No,--no, indeed," protests Letitia, foolishly, considering her handsome face is one broad smile, and that her plump shoulders are visibly shaking.]
"It is mean! it is shameful!" says Molly, from within, seeing no chance of escape. Whichever way she rushes can be only into his arms.
"All that you can say shan't prevent me," decides Luttrell, moving toward her with fell determination in his eye.
"Perhaps a little that I can say may have the desired effect," breaks in Mr. Massereene, advancing into the middle of the room, with Letitia, looking rather nervous, behind him.
There is a sudden, rather undignified, cessation of hostilities on the part of Mr. Luttrell, who beats a hasty retreat to the wall, where he stands as though glad of the support. He bears a sneaky rather than a distinguished appearance, and altogether has the grace to betray a considerable amount of shame.
Molly, dropping her gown, turns a rich crimson, but is, I need hardly say, by far the least upset of the two delinquents. She remains where she is, hedged in by the table, and is conscious of feeling a wild desire to laugh.
Determined to break the silence, which is proving oppressive, she says, demurely: