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"Earth putteth on the borrow'd robes of heaven, "It has broken out again!" she says, nervously. "I am sure—I am certain—it is a worst wound than you imagine. Ah! do go home, and get it dressed." Mona never afterwards could say which man was the first to make the attack, but in a second they are locked in each other's arms in a deadly embrace. A desire to cry aloud, to summon help, takes hold of her, but she beats it down, some inward feeling, clear, yet undefined, telling her that publicity on such a matter as this will be eminently undesirable..
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So determined is her aspect that Geoffrey shows the white feather, and, crying "mea culpa," beats a hasty retreat. "I should very much like to go," says Mona, gently, and with some eagerness. She has been sitting very quietly with her hands before her, hardly hearing what is passing around her,—lost, buried in thought. "But I wish it had been any one but Mona," says Geoffrey, still agitated. "That like a virgin queen salutes the sun.
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