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She smiles again, and, with a sigh of rapture at her own success, turns to Geoffrey and presses her lips to his out of the very fulness of her heart. A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly, Mona, sitting down to the piano, plays a few chords in a slow, plaintive fashion, and then begins. Paul Rodney has come to the doorway, and is standing there gazing at her, though she knows it not. The ballroom is far distant, so far that the sound of the band does not break upon the silence of the room in which they are assembled. A hush falls upon the listeners as Mona's fresh, pathetic, tender voice rises into the air..

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Mona tries to say something,—anything that will be kind and sympathetic,—but words fail her. Her lips part, but no sound escapes them. The terrible reality of the moment terrifies and overcomes her. "Open that door, Mrs. Geoffrey," says the doctor pointing to his right hand. "I saw you coming, and have prepared him for the interview. I shall be just here, or in the next room, if you should want me. But I can do little for him more than I have done." 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. He shivered when Cold Maker entered his lodge and drew his ragged robe about him. They were close friends..