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And then Geoffrey, marking all this, is vexed within himself, and, going over to her, lays his arm once more around her neck, and presses his cheek to hers. "It is true," puts in Mona. "How could he tell when the coast was clear for his escape, unless he took a little peep?" "I shall be charmed," says Violet; "but what is a country dance? Will 'Sir Roger' do?".
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To-day is cool, and calm, and bright. Almost one fancies the first faint breath of spring has touched one's cheek, though as yet January has not wended to its weary close, and no smallest sign of growth or vegetation makes itself felt. "He isn't!" says Geoffrey, panting "I have him at last!" Whereupon he emerges from a wilderness of ferns, drawing after him and holding up triumphantly to the light the wandering bird, that looks more dead than alive, with all its feathers drooping, and its breath coming in angry cries. "Do you know all you ask? By relinquishing this iniquitous deed I give up all hope of ever gaining this place,—this old house that even to me seems priceless. You demand much. Yet on one condition it shall be yours." "Yes; the one with the brown feather," returns Mona, quickly, and with a smile radiant and grateful, that sinks into Violet's heart and rests there..
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