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Geoffrey's arm slips from his wife's shoulders to her rounded waist. "I wonder what kind of songs you like best," says Mona, dreamily, letting her fingers run noiselessly over the keys of the Collard. "If you are like me, you like sad ones." But all is still..

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The girl put the bone on the ground and covered it with her robe and began to sing. After she had sung she took the robe away, and there under it lay her father's body, as if he had just died. Once again she covered the body with the robe and sang, and this time when she took the robe away the body was breathing. A third time she covered the body with the robe and sang, and when she again took away the robe, the body moved its arms and legs a little. A fourth time she covered it and sang, and when she took away the robe her father stood up. "Promise me you will not go back to Coolnagurtheen to-night?" she says, earnestly. "At the inn, down in the village, they will give you a bed." "Well; there isn't much, is there?" says Mona, pleasantly. She is clad in a long white dressing-gown, loose, yet clinging, that betrays each curve of her svelte, lissom figure. It is bordered with swansdown, and some rich white lace, that sits high to her neck and falls over her small hands. Her hair is drawn back into a loose knot, that looks as if it would tumble down her back should she shake her head. She is pale, and her eyes are peculiarly large and dark from excitement. They are fixed upon Rodney with a gaze that belies all idea of fear, and her lips are compressed and somewhat dangerous..