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"Surely," thinks Mona to herself, "this strange young man is not altogether bad. He has his divine touches as well as another.",He groans within him that he cannot think of any speech bordering on the Grandisonian, that may be politely addressed to this sylvan nymph; but all such speeches fail him. Who can she be? Were ever eyes so liquid before, or lips so full of feeling?,For the first time she stoops forward and presses her lips to Mona's warmly, graciously. Then she leaves her, and, having told her maid to take the rose-water to Mrs. Rodney, goes downstairs again to the drawing-room.,At the mention of the word "secret" every one grows very much alive at once. Even Lady Rodney dries her tears and looks up expectantly.,"You are certainly too strong for me," says Rodney, with a frown and a peculiar smile.,"Yes, of course; but I heard, too, how he escaped his would-be assassin.","Will it?" says Geoffrey, oddly.,They put him to rest in the family vault, where his ancestors lie side by side,—as Mona promised him,—and write Sir Paul Rodney over his head, giving him in death the title they would gladly have withheld from him in life.,"Ah! then I did not know all," says Mona. "That was your fault. No; if I consent to do you this injury you shall at least have time to think it over.",And that night, when she is indeed gone, a storm comes up from the sea, and dashes the great waves inward upon the rocky coast. And triumphantly upon their white bosoms the sea-mews ride, screaming loudly their wild sweet song that mingles harmoniously with the weird music of the winds and waves.,The man draws back hurriedly, and the woman once more sinks back into her forlorn position.,Indeed, no sound disturbs the sacred silence save the crisp rustle of the dead leaves, as they are trodden into the ground..