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"Ah," said her bull husband; "now you understand how it is that we feel. You mourn for your father; but we have seen our fathers, mothers, and many of our relations fall over the high cliffs, to be killed for food by your people. But now I will pity you, I will give you one chance. If you can bring your father to life, you and he may go back to your camp." "What a darling you are!" says Rodney, in a low tone; and then something else follows, that, had she seen it, would have caused the weatherbeaten old person at the fire another thrill of tender recollection. Mona turns pale..
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"You are an artiste," says Geoffrey, with a deep sigh when she has finished. "Who taught you, child? But there is no use in such a question. Nobody could teach it to you: you must feel it as you sing. And yet you are scarcely to be envied. Your singing has betrayed to me one thing: if ever you suffer any great trouble it will kill you." Mona hardly hears him. She is thinking of Nicholas's face as it was half an hour ago when he had leaned against the deserted doorway and looked at pretty Dorothy. To his right lies Bantry Bay, that now is spreading itself out in all its glory to catch the delicate hues of the sky above. They rush to greet it, and, sinking deep down into its watery embrace, lie there all day rocked to and fro by the restless ocean. "Morning fair.
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