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"By your grandfather!" corrects Mona, in a peculiar tone.,"If there are any," says Geoffrey, with a twinkle in his eye.,"Not in England, perhaps. When I spoke I was thinking of Ireland," says Mona.,"Lilias must have been quite a child then," says Lady Rodney.,She stands away from him, and looks at him with a face so pale, yet so earnest and intense, that he feels it will be unwise to argue further with her just now. So instead he takes both her hands and draws her to his side again.,"Eh, but this is bad news!" says old Scully, evidently terrified and disheartened by his niece's words. "Where will it all end? Come in, Misther Rodney: let me look at ye, boy. No, not a word out of ye now till ye taste something. 'Tis in bits ye are; an' a good coat it was this mornin'. There's the whiskey, Mona, agra, an' there's the wather. Oh! the black villain! Let me examine ye, me son. Why, there's blood on ye! Oh! the murthering thief!",She says this, however, as though it is her one desire he may know regret, and feel a difference that be overwhelming.,"I have heard so. I should like to see the library," says Paul, looking at her expectantly.,Presently her cry is answered. A thick cloud of pigeons—brown and white and bronze and gray—come wheeling into sight from behind the old house, and tumble down upon her in a reckless fashion. They perch upon her head, her shoulders, her white soft arms, even her hands, and one, more adventurous than the rest, has even tried to find a slippery resting-place upon her bosom.,"Certainly not," says Geoffrey: "I blush for you. I never yet heard of a ghost that was not strictly decent. It would have had a winding sheet, of course. Come, let us go for a walk.",Mona grows livid, and takes a step forward.,She stands away from him, and looks at him with a face so pale, yet so earnest and intense, that he feels it will be unwise to argue further with her just now. So instead he takes both her hands and draws her to his side again..