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"Just in one moment," says the wilful beauty. "But I must first look at myself altogether. I have only seen myself in little bits up to this, my glass is so small.","Neither could I," puts in Geoffrey. "But it was hard on you, my darling.",At this moment they come to a high bank, and Geoffrey, having helped Mona to mount it, jumps down at the other side, and holds out his arms to assist her to descend. As she reaches the ground, and while his arms are still round her, she says, with a sudden effort, and without lifting her eyes, "There is very good snipe-shooting here at Christmas.","You will come, Mona, to oblige the duchess," says Geoffrey, in exactly as even a tone as if the other had never spoken. Not that he cares in the very least about the duchess; but he is determined to conquer here, and is also desirous that all the world should appreciate and admire the woman he loves.,"Put it on you," says Geoffrey.,Early in the morning a herd of buffalo had been seen feeding on the slopes of the mountains, and some hunters went out to kill them. Travelling carefully up the ravines, and keeping out of sight of the herd, they came close to them, near enough to shoot their arrows, and they began to kill fat cows. But while they were doing this a war party of Snakes that had been hidden on the mountainside attacked them, and the Piegans began to run back toward their camp.,Only as Mrs. Geoffrey makes her final curtesy, and Geoffrey, with a laugh, stoops forward to kiss her lips instead of her hand, as acknowledgment of her earnest and very sweet performance, thereby declaring the same to have come to a timely end, do the new-comers dare to show themselves.,"Well, really, you know, yes. I think there is something special about her," he says, feeling himself in duty bound to say something.,"She is out," says Lady Rodney, in a compressed tone.,Mona takes no notice of his words, but still stands by the table, with her hands folded, her long white robes clinging to her, her eyes lowered, her whole demeanor like that of some mediæval saint. So thinks Rodney, who is gazing at her as though he would forever imprint upon his brain the remembrance of a vision as pure as it is perfect.,Sir Nicholas again applies himself to the deciphering of the detested letter. "'He would have written before, but saw no good in making a fuss beforehand,'" he reads slowly.,"Was it you?" asks he, raising himself on his elbow to regard her earnestly, though very loath to quit the spot where late he has been tenant. "You? Oh, Mona!".