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"Leave the girl alone, and come here," shouts Ryan furiously to Carthy, who is still holding Mona captive. The blood is streaming from a large cut on his forehead received in his fall. "Eh!" says Geoffrey, starting, not so much at the meaning of her words as at the words themselves. Have the worry and excitement of the last hour unsettled her brain! "But why should night produce melancholy?" says Nicholas, dreamily. "It is but a reflection of the greater light, after all. What does Richter call it? 'The great shadow and profile of day.' It is our own morbid fancies that make us dread it.".
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"That word shall never pass my lips again in your company,—never, I swear!" says he, "until you give me leave. My darling," in a low tone, "if you could only know how vexed I am about the whole affair, and my unpardonable conduct! Yet, Mona, I will not hide from you that this little bit of senseless heather has made me happier than I have ever been before." And in truth the "claning" occupies a very short period,—or else Mona and Geoffrey heed not the parting moments. For sometimes "Is there? Then I shall certainly return for it," says Geoffrey, who is too much of a gentleman to pretend to understand all her words seem to imply. "It is really no journey from this to England." "Call off the dogs," says Geoffrey to Mona, in a low tone; "there is no longer any necessity for them. And tell me how you come to be here, at this hour, with this—fellow.".
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