"There are times, I confess," goes on Mr. Darling, disposing of Geoffrey's mundane interruption by a contemptuous wave of the hand, "when light breaks in upon me, and a joyful, a thrice-blessed termination to my dream presents itself. For instance, if Geoffrey could only be brought to see things as they are, and have the grace to quit this mortal globe and soar to worlds unknown, I should then fling myself at your feet, and——",
"Look at him, under that fern there!" exclaims Mona, in her clear treble, that has always something sweet and plaintive in it. "On your right—no! not on your left. Sure you know your right, don't you?" with a full, but unconscious, touch of scorn. "Hurry! hurry! or he will be gone again. Was there ever such a hateful bird! With his good food in the yard, and his warm house, and his mother crying for him! Ah! there you have him! No!—yes! no! He is gone again!",
"Yet, in spite of what you say, you turn from me, you despise me," exclaims he, with some growing excitement..
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