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"I don't wonder at that. If I were the queen I should not let you go either. And so you throw her over? Unhappy queen! I do not envy her, although she sits upon so great a throne. I would not be cast off by you for the wealth of all the Indies." Stands by her side one bold, bright, steady star, When she is gone, Geoffrey walks impatiently up and down the small hall, conflicting emotions robbing him of the serenity that usually attends his footsteps. He is happy, yet full of a secret gnawing uneasiness that weighs upon him daily, hourly. Near Mona—when in her presence—a gladness that amounts almost to perfect happiness is his; apart from her is unrest. Love, although he is but just awakening to the fact, has laid his chubby hands upon him, and now holds him in thrall; so that no longer for him is that most desirable thing content,—which means indifference. Rather is he melancholy now and then, and inclined to look on life apart from Mona as a doubtful good. It is at this very moment the library door is suddenly flung open, and Jenkins appears upon the threshold, with his face as white as nature will permit, and his usually perfect manner much disturbed. "Sir Nicholas, can I speak to you for a moment?" he says, with much excitement, growing positively apoplectic in his endeavor to be calm..