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She disappears, and Geoffrey, obedient to orders, lounges off to the green glade, that now no longer owns rich coloring, but is strewn with leaves from the gaunt trees that stand in solemn order like grave sentries round it. "Indeed she will not;" says Mona indignantly. "Irish peasants very seldom do that. She will, I am sure, be faithful forever to the memory of the man she loved." Envious streaks.
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Conrad
"I have the book that contains it at Coolnagurtheen," he says, somewhat subdued. "Shall I bring it to you?" "If that is all," says Geoffrey, with a light laugh, laying his hand over the small brown one that still rests upon his arm, "I think it need hardly separate us. You are, indeed, different from all the other women I have met in my life,—which makes me sorry for all the other women. You are dearer and sweeter in my eyes than any one I have ever known! Is not this enough? Mona, are you sure no other reason prevents your accepting me? Why do you hesitate?" He has grown a little pale in his turn, and is regarding her with intense and jealous earnestness. Why does she not answer him? Why does she keep her eyes—those honest telltales—so obstinately fixed upon the ground? Why does she show no smallest sign of yielding? She flushes, opens her lips as if to speak, and yet is dumb,—perhaps through excess of emotion. "Why on earth," says Nolly, "can't they tell each other, what they have told the world long ago, that they adore each other? It is so jolly senseless, don't you know?".
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