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"That like a virgin queen salutes the sun "How melancholy!" says Mona, with a nearer approach to brightness than she has shown all day. "To Bantry," says Mona, growing white again,—"to-night! Oh, do you want to kill me and yourself?".

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And Lady Rodney is very willing that it should be obliterated. Just now, indeed, it is a favorite theory of hers that she could never have been really uncivil to dear Mona (she is always "dear Mona" of late days) but for the terrible anxiety that lay upon her, caused by the Australian and the missing will, and the cruel belief that soon Nicholas would be banished from the home where he had reigned so long as master. Had things gone happily with her, her mind would not have been so warped, and she would have learned at once to understand and appreciate the sweetness of the dear girl's character! And so on. This old woman, by hard work and sacrifice, had managed to rear the boys. She tanned robes for the hunters, made them moccasins worked with porcupine quills, and did everything she could to get a little food or worn out robes and hide, from which she made clothes for her boys. They never had new, brightly painted calf robes, like other children. They went barefoot in summer, and in winter their toes often showed through the worn out skin of their moccasins. They had no flesh. Their ribs could be counted beneath the skin; their cheeks were hollow; they looked always hungry. "Why?" says Mona. "I couldn't well call her any thing else until I know her." "I don't care what you have said," interrupts Mona, quickly. She has her arms round Lady Rodney's waist by this time, and is regarding her beseechingly..