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They are both silent for a little while, and then Dorothy says, softly,—,Geoffrey, leading his wife into the hall, pauses beneath a central swinging lamp, to examine her critically. The footman who is in attendance on them has gone on before to announce their coming: they are therefore for the moment alone.,"I am sorry I have missed her so often," says the duchess, who had been told that Mona was out when she called on her the second time, and who had been really not at home when Mona returned her calls. "But you will introduce me to her soon, I hope.","Ah! that is because you are a man, and because you love me," says this astute reader of humanity. "But women are so different. Suppose—suppose she never gets to like me?",She makes various attempts at thinking it out. She places her pretty hands upon her prettier brows, under the mistaken impression common to most people that this attitude is conducive to the solution of mysteries; but with no result. Things will not arrange themselves.,Great cascades of water are rushing from the high hills, tumbling, hurrying, with their own melodious music, into the rocky basins that kind nature has built to receive them. The soothing voices of the air are growing louder, more full of strength; the branches of the elms bow down before them; the gentle wind, "a sweet and passionate wooer," kisses the blushing leaf with perhaps a fiercer warmth than it did a month agone.,"The cold chaste moon, the queen of heaven's bright isles,,"By all means study them, if you are really bent on this tiresome journey. It may do you good. You will at least be more ready to take my advice another time.","Yes. You may bring it to me—to-morrow," returns she, with the faintest hesitation, which but enhances the value of the permission, whereon his heart once more knows hope and content.,Nolly alone of all the group stands aloof, joining not at all in the unspoken congratulations, and feeling indeed like nothing but the guilty culprit that he is.,With mingled feelings he quits his home, and all the way up to London in the afternoon train weighs with himself the momentous question whether he shall or shall not accept the unwilling invitation to the Towers, wrung from his mother.,"Nothing makes me so hungry as Lady Lilias," says Doatie, comfortably. She is lying back in a huge arm-chair that is capable of holding three like her, and is devouring bread and butter like a dainty but starved little fairy. Nicholas, sitting beside her, is holding her tea-cup, her own special tea-cup of gaudy Sèvres. "She is very trying, isn't she, Nicholas? What a dazzling skin she has!—the very whitest I ever saw.".