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"Don't be long," he says, impulsively, as she disappears down a passage. "But to find you like this"—begins Mona. And then overcome by grief and agitation, she covers her face with her hands, and bursts into tears. "No, she didn't," interposes he, lightly. "She never funked it for a moment: she's got any amount of pluck. He didn't exactly press it against her forehead, you know; but," airily, "it is all the same thing.".
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"Say I am quite forgiven," he pleads, earnestly, his eyes on hers. "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! As they were standing there looking at the water as it flowed by, the woman asked Old Man, saying, "How is it; shall we live always? Will there be no end to us?" "Pretty? No. But she dresses very swagger, and always looks nice, and is generally correct all through," replies Mr. Rodney, easily..
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