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In thought she had been miles away, and has just come back to the present with a start of guilt at her own neglect of her guest. She honestly believes, in her confusion, that Lady Lilias has been making some inquiries about the secret panel, and therefore makes her extraordinary remark with the utmost bonhommie and cheerfulness. "Well, but, after all, one can't be much of a friend if one can't sacrifice one's self sometimes for those one loves," says Mrs. Geoffrey, reproachfully. "You would have done it yourself in my place!" "The name of the place I mean to stay at—my own actual property—is called Coolnagurtheen," goes on Geoffrey, heedless of her censure..
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When she has finished, Geoffrey says "thank you" in a low tone. He is thinking of the last time when some one else sang to him, and of how different the whole scene was from this. It was at the Towers, and the hour with its dying daylight, rises before him. The subdued light of the summer eve, the open window, the perfume of the drowsy flowers, the girl at the piano with her small drooping head and her perfectly trained and very pretty voice, the room, the soft silence, his mother leaning back in her crimson velvet chair, beating time to the music with her long jewelled, fingers,—all is remembered. "Why, Mona?" "How could you laugh?" says Mona, reproachfully. "Besides, you are going on a fool's errand," she says, speaking rapidly, as though to gain time. "He has reached his own place long ago. Wait until the morning, I entreat you, Geoffrey. I—" her lips tremble, her breath comes fitfully—"I can bear no more just now.".
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