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"Curiosity, as I have already told Mrs. Rodney," returns he, lightly. "The window was open, the lamp burning. I walked in to see the old room." She excuses her unwonted drowsiness with a little laugh, natural and friendly, and begs them "not to betray her." Clothed in all this sweetness she drops a word or two meant to crush Mona; but that hapless young woman hears her not, being bent on explaining to Mrs. Carson that, as a rule, the Irish peasantry do not go about dressed only in glass beads, like the gay and festive Zulus, and that petticoats and breeches are not utterly unknown. "I will do my best," says Mona, earnestly; "but if I fail,—if after all my efforts your mother still refuses to love me, how will it be then?".
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"I will burn them with my own hands," says Mona. "I am very ignorant I know," says Mrs. Geoffrey, with her sunny smile, "but I think I should prefer a snowdrop to a thistle." "How strange!" says the duchess, with an amused smile. "Are you quite sure of that?" She walks deliberately forward and enters the cabin, Geoffrey closely following her..
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