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Fortunately this dagger refuses to be shaken from its hold. Mona, feeling that fair play is at an end, and that treachery is asserting itself, turns instinctively to her faithful allies the bloodhounds, who have risen, and, with their hair standing straight on their backs, are growling ominously.,"It is for my sake; but it will break my heart.",At this his dark face flames, and his eyes instinctively, yet almost against his will, seek hers.,And warms, but not illumines.","I shall be charmed," says Violet; "but what is a country dance? Will 'Sir Roger' do?","Everything shall be just as you wish it, dearest," says his mother, with unwonted tenderness, and then silence falls upon them all.,"Down below in the hollow, miss,—jist behind the hawthorn-bush. Go home some other way, Miss Mona: they're bint on blood.",He groans within him that he cannot think of any speech bordering on the Grandisonian, that may be politely addressed to this sylvan nymph; but all such speeches fail him. Who can she be? Were ever eyes so liquid before, or lips so full of feeling?,At this moment one of the pigeons—a small, pretty thing, bronze-tinged—flies to her, and, resting on her shoulder, makes a tender cooing sound, and picks at her cheek reproachfully, as though imploring more corn.,"My dear Oliver!" protests Lady Rodney, mildly.,And confident to morrow.",When she made him this little trustful speech, however, he had felt some embarrassment, and had turned his attention upon a little muddy boy who was playing pitch-and-toss, irrespective of consequences, on the other side of the way..