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"Shot himself! How?" she says, hoarsely, her bosom rising and falling tumultuously. "Jenkins, answer me." CHAPTER XXIV. "Is that what you think?" he says, earnestly. "Then for once you are wrong. I have never been—I shall hardly be again—happier than I have been in Ireland.".
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Geoffrey coming to the farm somewhat early in the evening, Mona takes him round to the yard, where two dogs, hitherto unseen by Geoffrey, lie chained. They are two splendid bloodhounds, that, as she approaches, rise to their feet, and, lifting their massive heads, throw out into the night-air a deep hollow bay that bespeaks welcome. "What does she mean?" asks he of his brother, who is distinctly amused. "Does she wish poor old Geoff had married a bad one? I confess myself at fault." "I have given it," returns she, in a low tone,—so low that he has to bend to hear it. "Do not be angry with me, do not—I——" "No one blames you," says Mona; "yet it is hard that Nicholas should be made unhappy.".
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