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"But I shall be more content so; and even if I went to bed I could not sleep. Besides, I shall not be companionless when the small hours begin to creep upon me." I wish you would not take it so absurdly to heart. I haven't married an heiress, I know; but the whole world does not hinge on money." "It is to be regretted you cannot like England, as you have made up your mind to live in it; and yet I think——" She pauses..

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Whenever these lines come to me I think of Mona. "I am glad you have at last deigned to take some small notice of me," says he, with a faint touch of pique in his tone. And then, looking at him again, she sees it is the young man who had nearly ridden over her some time ago, and tells herself she has been just a little rude to his Grace the Duke of Lauderdale. And by degrees, beneath her influence, Mona grows pale and distrait and in many respects unlike her old joyous self. Each cold, reproving glance and sneering word,—however carefully concealed—falls like a touch of ice upon her heart, chilling and withering her glad youth. Up to this she has led a bird's life, gay, insouciant, free and careless. Now her song seems checked, her sweetest notes are dying fast away through lack of sympathy. She is "cribbed, cabined, and confined," through no fault of her own, and grows listless and dispirited in her captivity. "Oh, no! it is not that! you must know it is not that," says Mona, in deep grief. "It is that I cannot marry you!".