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"Well, Violet was crying (not loudly, you know, but quite comfortably): so then I thought I had been mistaken, and that probably she had a toothache, or a headache, or something, and that the foregoing speech was mere spooning; and I rather lost faith in the situation, when suddenly he said, 'Why do you cry?' And what do you think was her answer? 'Because I am so happy.' Now, fancy any one crying because she was happy!" says Mr. Darling, with fine disgust. "I always laugh when I'm happy. And I think it rather a poor thing to dissolve into tears because a man asks you to marry him: don't you, Mrs. Geoffrey?" A deep hush has fallen upon everything. The air is cold and piercing. Mona shivers, and draws even closer to Geoffrey, as, mute, yet full of saddest thought, they move through the leafless wood. "Place it on the table," says Mona, who, though rich in presence of mind, has yet all a woman's wholesome horror of anything that may go off..
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"Oh, well, what's the odds?" says Nolly. "Whether she is French, or English, Irish or German, she has just the loveliest face I ever saw, and the sweetest ways. You've done an awfully dangerous thing. You will be Mrs. Rodney's husband in no time,—nothing else, and you positively won't know yourself in a year after. Individuality lost. Name gone. Nothing left but your four bones. You will be quite thankful for them, even, after a bit." "Let's have it," says Jack, waking up from his reverie, having found it impossible to compel Violet's eyes to meet his. She glances anxiously at Mona, who is gazing into the fire with a slight frown upon her brow, that looks sadly out of place on that smooth white surface. At Violet's last words it flies away, not to return. "It will be very bitter to me," says Lady Rodney..
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