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"Do not come any nearer," he says, hastily, "I can tell it all to you better, more easily, when I cannot see you." At which Mona turns round to him a face very pale, but full of such love as should rejoice the heart of any man, and says, tremulously,— "I am always forgiving you, it seems to me," says Mona, coldly, turning from him with a frown. "And as for that heather," facing him again, with eyes shamed but wrathful, "I just kept it because—because—oh, because I didn't like to throw it away! That was all!".
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Rising, the old dame takes a chair, dusts it, and presents it to the stranger, with a courtesy and a wish that he will make himself welcome. Then she goes back again to the chimney-corner, and taking up the bellows, blows the fire beneath the potatoes, turning her back in this manner upon the young people with a natural delicacy worthy of better birth and better education. "In my own room. You have not seen that yet. But it belongs to myself alone, and I call it my den, because in it I keep everything that I hold most precious. Some time I will show it to you." "You see, our own house is rather out of repair from being untenanted for so long, and will hardly be ready for us for a month or two," he said to Mona: "I think I will run down to the Towers and tell my mother we will go to her for a little while." "And 'A dumb priest loses his benefice,'" quotes Mona, in her turn, almost gayly too..
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