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Mona takes no notice of his words, but still stands by the table, with her hands folded, her long white robes clinging to her, her eyes lowered, her whole demeanor like that of some mediæval saint. So thinks Rodney, who is gazing at her as though he would forever imprint upon his brain the remembrance of a vision as pure as it is perfect. The doctor, after a short examination of the features (that are even now turning to marble), knits his brows, and, going over to Geoffrey, whispers something into his ear while pointing to Mona. CHAPTER VIII..
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"I didn't make up the mare, miss, before comin' out wid ye," he says, mildly, telling this lie without a blush. "I dare say," she says, carelessly, purposely mistaking his meaning: "it must have been cold lying there." "Come," he says, gently. Naturally an early riser, Mona slips noiselessly from her bed, lest she shall wake Geoffrey,—who is still sleeping the sleep of the just,—and, going into his dressing-room, jumps into his bath, leaving hers for him..
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