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"I won't, then. Sure you can live alone with yourself for one minute," returns she, in very fine Irish; and, with a parting smile, sweet as nectar and far more dangerous, she goes. The moon has gone behind a cloud, the road is almost wrapped in complete gloom, when a voice, coming from apparently nowhere, startles them, and brings them back from visions of impossible bliss to the present very possible world. "It is now my turn to demand obedience," says Mona, with a little wan attempt at a smile. "Will you make every hour of my life unhappy? Can I live in the thought that each minute may bring me evil news of you,—may bring me tidings of your death?" Here she gives way to a passionate burst of grief, and clings closer to him, as though with her soft arms to shield him from all danger. Her tears touch him. Far down below lies the bay, calm and placid. Not a ripple, not a sigh comes to disturb its serenity or mar the perfect beauty of the silver pathway thrown so lightly upon it by the queen of heaven. It falls there so clear, so unbroken, that almost one might deem it possible to step upon it, and so walk onwards to the sky that melts into it on the far horizon..