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He smiles, and, turning, kneels before her in mock humility that savors of very real homage. Taking her hand, he presses it to his lips. "You are pleased to talk conundrums," says Rodney, with a shrug. "I confess my self sufficiently dull to have never guessed one." "Pray for me!" says he, in a low tone, pressing her hand. So on her knees, in a subdued voice, sad but earnest, she repeats what prayers she can remember out of the grand Service that belongs to us. One or two sentences from the Litany come to her; and then some words rise from her own heart, and she puts up a passionate supplication to heaven that the passing soul beside her, however erring, may reach some haven where rest remaineth!.
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Conrad
"Not until two?" says Mona, growing miserable again. "Yes, I dare say," says Lady Rodney, who is now wondering when this high-flown visitor will take her departure. It is dreary waiting. No sleep comes to her eyes; she barely moves; the dogs slumber drowsily, and moan and start in their sleep, "fighting their battles o'er again," it may be, or anticipating future warfare. Slowly, ominously, the clock strikes twelve. Two hours have slipped into eternity; midnight is at hand! CHAPTER XIII..
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