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"I was hateful to you just now, and most unjust." The hour is enchanting, the air almost mild; and every one feels half aggrieved when the carriage, entering the lodge-gates, bears them swiftly towards the massive entrance that will lead them into the house and out of the cold. "Poor Mona!" says Geoffrey; "don't tell her about it, as remorse may sadden her.".
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"Oh, no, not that," says Mona. "Poor Ireland! Every one either laughs at her or hates her. Though I like my adopted country, still I shall always feel for old Erin what I could never feel for another land." "It might be that ye'd take a dhrop of new milk, too," says Betty, "on hospitable thoughts intent," placing before her visitors a little jug of milk she has all day been keeping apart, poor soul! for her own delectation. "No," he replied, "I am in a hurry; I cannot stop." "Well, practically speaking, no. But I believe she has a sister somewhere.".
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