"How many hours there are in the night that we never count!" says Geoffrey, impatiently. "Good-night, Mona! To-morrow's dawn I shall call my dearest friend.",
"Do not try to make me any commonplace speeches," says Rodney, marking her hesitation. He speaks hastily, yet with evident difficulty. "I am dying. Nothing, can alter that. But death has brought you to my side again, so I cannot repine.",
"I may as well talk while I can: soon you will not be able to hear me, when the grass is growing over me," replies he, recklessly. "It was hardly worth my while to deliver you up that will, was it? Is not Fate ironical? Now it is all as it was before I came upon the scene, and Nicholas has the title without dispute. I wish we had been better friends,—he at least was civil to me,—but I was reared with hatred in my heart towards all the Rodneys; I was taught to despise and fear them as my natural enemies, from my cradle.".
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