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"It is nearly over," he gasps, painfully. "Say good-by to me. Do not quite forget me, not utterly. Give me some small place in your memory, though—so unworthy." She is dressed in black velvet, and has a cap of richest old lace upon her head. To the quick sensibilities of the Irish girl it becomes known without a word that she is not to look for love from this stately woman, with her keen scrutinizing glance and cold unsmiling lips. "Our 'pretty Jane,' on occasions, can talk as much nonsense as—as any woman I ever met," says Geoffrey,—the hesitation being full of filial reverence; "and that may be called, I think, unqualified praise.".
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"Geoffrey," she says with a visible effort. "Ah! that is because you are a man, and because you love me," says this astute reader of humanity. "But women are so different. Suppose—suppose she never gets to like me?" "Mrs. Carson has come to see you," she says, in an agony of fear, giving her a little shake. And now what remains to be told? But little, I think! For my gentle Mona has reached that haven where she would be!.
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