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"Pray for me!" says he, in a low tone, pressing her hand. So on her knees, in a subdued voice, sad but earnest, she repeats what prayers she can remember out of the grand Service that belongs to us. One or two sentences from the Litany come to her; and then some words rise from her own heart, and she puts up a passionate supplication to heaven that the passing soul beside her, however erring, may reach some haven where rest remaineth! He follows her, full of remorse and contrition. Her glance, even more than her words, has covered him with shame, and cured him of his want of generosity. Yet after a moment or two the smile fades from Mona's mobile lip that ever looks as if, in the words of the old song, "some bee had stung it newly," and a pensive expression takes its place..
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"That betrays the meanness of the world," says Mona, slowly and with indignation. "Has not Geoffrey just declared himself to be a younger son?" In being mad, which none but madmen know.' "But, my darling child, I can't help the fact that George Rodney left me the Hall," says Geoffrey, deprecatingly, reducing the space between them to a mere nothing, and slipping his arm round her waist. "And if I was a beggar on the face of the earth, I could not love you more than I do, nor could you, I hope"—reproachfully—"love me better either." "I hope you are enjoying yourself," she says, presently, hardly knowing what else to say..
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