"Is—is he covered?" murmurs Mona, with difficulty, growing pale, and shrinking backwards. Instinctively she lays her hand on Rodney's arm, as though desirous of support. He, laying his own hand upon hers, holds it in a warm and comforting clasp.,
"To England!" she repeats, with a most mournful attempt at unconcern, "Will—will that be soon?",
So saying, he embraces her warmly, and, running downstairs, jumps into the dog-cart, and drives away behind the "vicious Black Bess.".
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