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"I know that," says Geoffrey, "and the knowledge makes me more happy than I can say. But to Rome you shall go, whatever it may cost. And then we shall return to England to our own home. And then—little rebel that you are—you must begin to look upon yourself as an English subject, and accept the queen as your gracious sovereign." "Well, then, I will not," returns she, with a last effort at determination, and the most miserable face in the world. A sob escapes her, and falls heavily on Geoffrey's heart. He is not proof against a woman's tears,—as no true man ever is,—especially her tears, and so he gives in at once..

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"I'll tell you all something," he says, "though I hardly think I ought, if you will swear not to betray me." "Does he really?" asks Mona, with eyes wide open. "I am sure if I ever meet your brother Nick I shall be dreadfully afraid of him." The chief lifted the slender young form, placed it on the pile of wood, and told a woman to bring coals and set fire to the pile. When this had been done, all left the place except Three Bulls, who stayed there, tending the fire and poking it here and there, until it was burnt out and no wood or trace of a human body was left. Nothing remained except the little pile of ashes. These he scattered. Still he was not satisfied. His medicine was strong; perhaps his dream had warned him. Now he ordered that the lodges be taken down, that everything be packed up, and that the trail of the moving camp should pass over the heap of ashes. "To Bantry," says Mona, growing white again,—"to-night! Oh, do you want to kill me and yourself?".