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"The man is eccentric, no matter what Geoffrey may say," is Mona's first thought, when she has perused it carefully for the second time. Then the belief that it may have something to do with the restoration of the lost will takes possession of her, and makes her heart beat wildly. Yes, she will go; she will keep this appointment whatever comes of it. He started, and after he had travelled some time he saw a woman standing not far from the trail. She called to him, saying, "Come here, young man, come here; I want to wrestle with you." "It is quite an old story," goes on Nolly..

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"He may not,—there is a faint chance,—but of course the title is gone, as he has proved his birth beyond dispute." Geoffrey utters an exclamation, and Mona, after one swift comprehensive glance at the rifled cupboard, bursts into tears. The bitter disappointment is more than she can bear. All through the night Mona scarcely shuts her eyes, so full is her mind of troubled and perplexing thoughts. At last her brain grows so tired that she cannot pursue any subject to its end, so she lies silently awake, watching for the coming of the tardy dawn. "The day is done, and the darkness falls from the wings of night." The dusk is slowly creeping up over all the land, the twilight is coming on apace. As the day was, so is the gathering eve, sad and mournful, with sounds of rain and sobbings of swift winds as they rush through the barren beeches in the grove. The harbor bar is moaning many miles away, yet its voice is borne by rude Boreas up from the bay to the walls of the stately Towers, that neither rock nor shiver before the charges of this violent son of "imperial Æolus.".