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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. "I don't want to see her," is the unflinching and most ungracious reply. "I am sorry I can tell you nothing," says Mona, shaking her head. "I was never in this wood before; I know nothing of it.".

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"Everybody," says Geoffrey; "that is, all specially nice people. You won't be in the swim at all, unless you take to that sort of thing." She lifts her luminous eyes to his, and regards him fixedly as she speaks, full of hopeful excitement. Her eyes have always a peculiar fascination of their own, apart from the rest of her face. Once looking at her, as though for the first time impressed with this idea, Geoffrey had said to her, "I never look at your eyes that I don't feel a wild desire to close them with a kiss." To which she had made answer in her little, lovable way, and with a bewitching glance from the lovely orbs in question, "If that is how you mean to do it, you may close them just as often as ever you like." "The missing will? Yes—yes—yes!" cries she, raising the hand that is behind her, and holding it high above her head with the will held tightly in it. To this name, given to her in such an unkindly spirit, Mona clings with singular pertinacity. Once when Nolly has called her by it in Lady Rodney's hearing, the latter raises her head, and a remorseful light kindles in her eyes; and when Mr. Darling has taken himself away she turns entreatingly to Mona, and, with a warm accession of coloring, says, earnestly,—.