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Having said this, she turns her back upon him contemptuously, and walks towards her home. "Geoffrey? Oh, no. It was he who brought me. He bade me hasten lest you should even imagine me careless about coming. And—and—he desired me to say how he regrets the harsh words he uttered and the harsher thoughts he may have entertained towards you. Forgive him, I implore you, and die in peace with him and all men." "Who?" "What?" say Mona and Dorothy, in one breath..
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"Well, no; but that is pure Irish," says Geoffrey, unmoved. Mona, with lowered head, turns her wedding-ring round and round upon her finger, and repents bitterly that little slip of hers when talking with the duchess last night. Seeing the poor child's terrible fear and anxiety, and that she is completely overwrought, he gives way, and lets her have the desired promise. Two o'clock! The song dies away, and Mona's brow contracts. So late!—the day is slipping from her, and as yet no word, no sign. "How cold it is!" she says, rising, with a little shiver. "Let us go home.".
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