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The momentous Friday comes at last, and about noon Mona and Geoffrey start for the Towers. They are not, perhaps, in the exuberant spirits that should be theirs, considering they are going to spend their Christmas in the bosom of their family,—at all events, of Geoffrey's family which naturally for the future she must acknowledge as hers. They are indeed not only silent, but desponding, and as they get out of the train at Greatham and enter the carriage sent by Sir Nicholas to meet them their hearts sink nearly into their boots, and for several minutes no words pass between them. "But," begins Mona, feebly, hardly sure of her blessed release. "I want to very much," says poor Mona, her eyes filling with tears. "But," hopelessly, "must I begin by learning to tell lies?" All this teaching is very bitter to her..
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As Mona gazes at him half fearfully, he raises himself suddenly on his elbow, and says, in a tone far stronger than he has yet used,— She winds her arms, around him, seeing he is still determined to go, and, throwing back her head, looks into his face. "Away from me," returns he, with some emotion, tightening his clasp around her. And now where was the missing will? Almost all the old servants were dead or scattered. The gardener and his nephew wore no more; even old Elspeth was lying at rest in the cold churchyard, having ceased long since to be even food for worms. Only her second nephew—who had lived with her for years in the little cottage provided for her by the Rodneys, when she was too old and infirm to do aught but sit and dream of days gone by—was alive, and he, too, had gone to Australia on her death and had not been heard of since..
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