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In ignorance of the fact that Geoffrey has been hurt in the fray, she lays her hand upon the injured arm. Instinctively he shrinks from the touch.,

"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.,

"The man with the mane? that is Griffith Blount. The most objectionable person any one could meet, but tolerated because his tongue is so awful. Do you know Colonel Graves? No! Well, he has a wife calculated to terrify the bravest man into submission, and last year when he was going abroad Blount met him, and asked him before a roomful 'if he was going for pleasure, or if he was going to take his wife with him.' Neat, wasn't it? But I don't remember hearing that Graves liked it.",

Still onward,—lightly, swiftly: now in sight of the boundless sea, now diving down into the plain, without faintness or despondency, or any other feeling but a passionate determination to save a man's life.

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"I tell you I have not," says Geoffrey. "Nothing of the sort. You are wool-gathering.",

"But they were troublesome, very troublesome," says Mrs. Geoffrey, with a retrospective sigh, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands together on her lap. "You can't imagine what a worry they were at times,—always ringing the college bell at the wrong hours, and getting tight!",

He is a tall young man, about thirty-two, yet looking younger, with a somewhat sallow complexion, large dreamy brown eyes, and very fine sleek black hair. He wears neither moustache nor whiskers, principally for the very good reason that Nature has forgotten to supply them. For which perhaps he should be grateful, as it would have been a cruel thing to hide the excessive beauty of his mouth and chin and perfectly-turned jaw. These are his chief charms, being mild and thoughtful, yet a trifle firm, and in perfect accordance with the upper part of his face. He is hardly handsome, but is certainly attractive.,

So thinks Mona, and goes steadily on to the library, dreading nothing, and inexpressibly cheered by the thought that gloom at least does not await her there.