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It is the 14th of December, and "bitter chill." Upon all the lawns and walks at the Towers, "Nature, the vicar of the almightie Lord," has laid its white winding-sheet. In the long avenue the gaunt and barren branches of the stately elms are bowed down with the weight of the snow, that fell softly but heavily all last night, creeping upon the sleeping world with such swift and noiseless wings that it recked not of its visit till the chill beams of a wintry sun betrayed it.,

This fond coloring, suiting the exigencies of the moment suits her likewise. Never before has she looked so entirely pretty. Her lips tremble, her eyes grow pathetic. And Captain Rodney, already deeply in love, grows one degree more impressed with the fact of his own good fortune in having secured so enviable a bride.,

Mona is looking up to it now, with a rapt, pensive gaze, her great blue eyes gleaming beneath its light. She is sitting upon the side of the hill, with her hands clasped about her knees, a thoughtful expression on her lovely face. At each side of her, sitting bolt upright on their huge haunches, are the dogs, as though bent on guarding her against all evil.,

"I wish Nick didn't like her so much," says Geoffrey, sadly. "It will cut him up more than all the rest, if he has to give her up."

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"You would turn a farce into a tragedy," he says, mockingly, "Why should I bribe a servant to let me see an old room by midnight?",

The short daylight fades; the wind grows higher; the whole scene is curious, and very nearly fantastical. The pretty girl in her clinging satin gown, and her gleaming neck and arms, bare and soft and white, and the tiny lace-fringed cap that crowns her fairness. The gaunt trees branching overhead that are showering down upon her all their fading wealth of orange and crimson and russet-colored leaves, that serve to throw out the glories of her dress. The brown-green sward is beneath her, the river runs with noiseless mirth beside her, rushing with faint music over sand and pebble to the ocean far below. Standing before her is her lover, gazing at her with adoring eyes.,

Lady Rodney and Violet are sitting over the fire, and now Mona joins them, gowned in the blue satin dress in which she had come to meet Geoffrey, not so many months ago, in the old wood behind the farm.,

"It is Mr. Moore's retriever!" cries Mona, hurriedly, in a startled tone. "I must run. Down, Fan! down! Oh, if he catches me here, in this dress, what will he think? Quick, Geoffrey, give me my shawl!"