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"Not always," sobs Doatie. "I know how it will be. We shall be separated,—torn asunder, and then after a while they will make me marry somebody else; and in a weak moment I shall do it! And then I shall be utterly wretched for ever and ever." "He looked as if he wanted to eat you; and I'm sure I don't wonder at it," says Geoffrey, making the addition to his speech in a lower key. Lights are blazing, fiddles are sounding; all the world is abroad to-night. Even still, though the ball at the Towers has been opened long since by Mona and the Duke of Lauderdale, the flickering light of carriage-lamps is making the roads bright, by casting tiny rays upon the frosted ground..

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"I do not know where I am going," he replied; "I am in trouble, but I cannot talk about it." "Mona! Are you crying for me?" says Paul Rodney, as though surprised. "Do not. Your tears hurt me more than this wound that has done me to death." "I beg your pardon," she manages to say. "Of course had I known you were listening at the door I should not have said what I did,"—this last with a desire to offend. To-morrow will be market-day in Bantry, to which the week's butter must go; and now the churning is over, and the result of it lies cold and rich and fresh beneath Mona's eyes. She herself is busily engaged printing little pats off a large roll of butter that rests on the slab before her; her sleeves are carefully tucked up, as on that first day when Geoffrey saw her; and in defiance of her own heart—which knows itself to be sad—she is lilting some little foolish lay, bright and shallow as the October sunshine that floods the room, lying in small silken patches on the walls and floor..