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"Oh, may I niver agin see the light," cries this excitable damsel, rushing out to Mona, "if I iver hoped to lay eyes on yer face again! Where were ye at all, darlin'? An' I breakin' me heart wid fear for ye. Did ye know Tim Ryan was out to-night? When I heerd tell of that from that boy of the Cantys', I thought I'd have dhropped. 'Tis no good he's up to. Come in, asthore: you must be near kilt with the cowld.","Poor Mona!" says Geoffrey; "don't tell her about it, as remorse may sadden her.","Why is this, grandmother?" asked Kŭt-o-yĭs´. "Have you no food better than this to give to a visitor? Down there I see a piskun; you must kill plenty of buffalo and must have good food.","I sha'n't want to see them, perhaps," says Mona, apologetically, "but how shall I avoid it?","If they could only hear us now!" murmurs Geoffrey, addressing no one in particular.,"Oh! if you mean by that you want to get rid of me, you might have said so long ago, without all this hinting," says Mr. Rodney, huffily, preparing to beat an indignant retreat.,There is no disfigurement about him to be seen, no stain of blood, no ugly mark; yet he is touched by the pale hand of the destroyer, and is sinking, dying, withering beneath it. He has aged at least ten years within the last fatal hour, while in his eyes lies an expression so full of hungry expectancy and keen longing as amounts almost to anguish.,"Well, he may have," admits Lady Rodney, reluctantly, who has grown strangely jealous of Mona's reputation of late. As she speaks she colors faintly. "I must beg you to believe," she says, "that Mona up to the very last was utterly unaware of his infatuation.",Instinctively she lowers her hand as though to place the document in the inside pocket of her coat, and in doing so comes against something that plainly startles her.,The grass is still brown, the trees barren, no ambitious floweret thrusts its head above the bosom of its mother earth,—except, indeed, those "floures white and rede, such as men callen daisies," that always seem to beam upon the world, no matter how the wind blows.,"Well," said the young man, "where is your piskun—where do you kill buffalo?",Hands of invisible spirits touch the strings.