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Mona, stooping, caresses them fondly. They are a part of her old life, and dear, therefore, to her own faithful heart. Having partly undressed, she sits down upon the hearthrug with them, and, with both their big heads upon her lap, sits staring into the fire, trying to while away with thought the hours that must elapse before Geoffrey can return to her again. Mr. Moore is her landlord, and the owner of the lovely wood behind Mangle Farm where Geoffrey came to grief yesterday. Then she remembers her promise to go down to the girls and abstain from fretting, and, rising bravely, she bathes her eyes, and goes down the marble staircase through the curtained alcove towards the small drawing-room, where one of the servants tells her, the family is assembled..
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"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." She too rises, lays her hand on Mona's arm, and walks through the long room, and past the county generally, to "see the lake by moonlight." Yet it is not for the sake of gazing upon almost unrivalled scenery she goes, but to please this Irish girl, whom so very few can resist. At this, in spite of everything, Rodney laughs lightly, and, taking her hand in his, draws it through his arm. There is love and trust and great content in his laugh. "Miss Mona, come in; the tay will be cold, an' the rashers all spoiled, an' the masther's callin' for ye.".
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