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"Oh, Geoffrey, wasn't it well you went to Ireland and met Mona? Because if you had stayed on here last autumn we might have been induced to marry each other, and then what would have become of poor Jack?" But that Mr. Rodney is still oppressed with the fear that he has mortally offended her, he could have laughed out loud at this childish speech; but anxiety helps him to restrain his mirth. Nevertheless he feels an unholy joy as he thinks on Mr. Moore's bald pate, his "too, too solid flesh," and his "many days." "No; I have not forgotten you," says Mona, shrinking away from him. As she speaks she looks nervously at Nicholas..

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Miss Darling—Sir Nicholas's fiancee—and her brother are expected to night; and so the household generally has dressed itself earlier than usual to be in full readiness to receive them. "The names are original, at all events," says Geoffrey,—"which is a great charm. One gets so tired of 'Rags and Tatters,' 'Beer and Skittles,' 'Cakes and Ale,' and so forth, where pairs are in question, whether they be dogs or ponies." This is a thunderbolt. They all start guiltily, and regard Mona with wonder. What is she going to say next? A terrace runs all along one side of the house, which is exposed to view from the avenue. And here, with a gaunt but handsome greyhound beside her, stands a girl tall and slim, yet beautifully moulded. Her eyes are gray, yet might at certain moments be termed blue. Her mouth is large, but not unpleasing. Her hair is quite dark, and drawn back into a loose and artistic coil behind. She is clad in an impossible gown of sage green, that clings closely to her slight figure, nay, almost desperately, as though afraid to lose her..