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Mona and Geoffrey have gone to their own pretty house, and are happy there as they deserve to be,—Mona proving the most charming of chatelaines, so naive, so gracious, so utterly unaffected, as to win all hearts. Indeed, there is not in the county a more popular woman than Mrs. Geoffrey Rodney.,"Ah! were you really there!" says Mona, growing at once bright and excited at the bare mention of her native land. At such moments she falls again unconsciously into the "thens," and "sures," and "ohs!" and "ahs!" of her Ireland.,Springing up on it, she selects a certain panel, and, laying one hand on it as if to make sure it is the one she wants, counts carefully six more from it to the next wall, and three from it to the floor. I think I have described these panels before as being one foot broad and two feet long.,"Coward!" hisses Rodney between his teeth. His face is pale as death; his teeth are clenched; his gray eyes are flaming fire. His hat has fallen off in the struggle, and his coat, which is a good deal torn, betrays a shirt beneath deeply stained with blood. He is standing back a little from his opponent, with his head thrown up, and his fair hair lying well back from his brow.,When they grew to be twelve or fifteen years old they began to do better, for now they could do more and more for themselves. They herded horses and performed small services for the wealthy men; then, too, they hunted and killed a little meat. Now, for their work, three or four dogs were given them, so with the two the old woman owned, they were able to pack their small lodge and other possessions when the camp moved, instead of carrying everything on their backs.,When the people heard this they were angry, and they told the man to do something to punish these women.,"No, it couldn't be helped," says little Doatie. But their intervention only appears to add fuel to the fire of Lady Rodney's wrath.,"Mona," says Nicholas, roughly, laying his hand on her shoulder, and shaking her slightly, "I forbid you talking like that. It is nobody's fault. It is the will of God. It is morbid and sinful of you to let such a thought enter your head.","Mona! There is no one so sweet or comforting as you are," she cries, giving her a grateful hug. "I really think I do feel a little better now.","Because I could not bear to think any one was made unhappy by me. It would seem as though some evil eye was resting on our love," says Mona, raising her thoughtful, earnest eyes to his. "It must be a sad thing when our happiness causes the misery of others.",And now where was the missing will? Almost all the old servants were dead or scattered. The gardener and his nephew wore no more; even old Elspeth was lying at rest in the cold churchyard, having ceased long since to be even food for worms. Only her second nephew—who had lived with her for years in the little cottage provided for her by the Rodneys, when she was too old and infirm to do aught but sit and dream of days gone by—was alive, and he, too, had gone to Australia on her death and had not been heard of since.,"You have come," he says, with a quick sigh that be speaks relief. "I knew you would. I felt it; yet I feared. Oh, what comfort to see you again!".