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"Oh! Nicholas, it can't be true! it really can't!" she says, alluding to the news contained in a letter Sir Nicholas is reading with a puzzled brow. Old Brian Scully is in his parlor, and comes to meet them as they enter the hall,—his pipe behind his back. So Mrs. Rodney says, "It was rather better than I anticipated, thank you," in a tone so icy that his is warm beside it..
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"Now listen, Mona," she says, in her low voice, that even now, when she is somewhat excited, shows no trace of heat or haste, "for I shall speak to you plainly. You must make up your mind to Lady Rodney. It is the common belief that mere birth will refine most people; but those who cling to that theory will surely find themselves mistaken. Something more is required: I mean the nobility of soul that Nature gives to the peasant as well as the peer. This, Lady Rodney lacks; and at heart, in sentiment, she is—at times—coarse. May I say what I like to you?" Mona, drawing a chair to the panelled wall, steps up on it, and, pressing her finger on the seventh panel, it slowly rolls back, betraying the vacuum behind. "Perhaps you are tired of staying here," says Mona, with compunction, turning to Geoffrey, "and would like to go home? I suppose every one cannot love this spot as I do. Yes," rising, "I am selfish. Do come home." "Do ye mane to inform on us?" says Ryan, slowly, who is "a man of a villanous countenance," laying his hand impulsively upon his gun, and glancing at her and Rodney alternately with murder in his eyes. It is a critical moment. Rodney, putting out his hand, tries to draw her behind him..
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