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"Ah! indeed! How interesting!" says Lady Lilias, rousing into something that very nearly borders on animation. "I did not think there was in England another room like this." CHAPTER XXVII. "I will not listen," she interrupts, passionately. "I know how you both looked a while ago. I shall never forget it; and to meet again now, with fresh cause for hatred in your hearts, would be——No. There is crime in the very air of to-night.".

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"My dear, I behaved badly to you in that matter. Let me tell Oliver to call you Mrs. Rodney for the future. It is your proper name." "Well, no; but that is pure Irish," says Geoffrey, unmoved. Mona, with lowered head, turns her wedding-ring round and round upon her finger, and repents bitterly that little slip of hers when talking with the duchess last night. The moments come and go. The fire is dying out. No sound but that of the falling cinders comes to disturb the stillness that reigns within the library. Mona is vaguely, wondering what the end of it all will be. And then at last the silence is broken. A noise upon the gravel outside, a quick rush up the balcony steps; some one emerges from the gloom of the night, and comes into the room through the open window. Mona utters a passionate cry of relief and joy. It is Geoffrey! "I wonder what kind of songs you like best," says Mona, dreamily, letting her fingers run noiselessly over the keys of the Collard. "If you are like me, you like sad ones.".