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"Yes, let us," says Mona, gayly.,She turns involuntarily, through the innate courtesy that belongs to her race, to return his parting salutation, and, looking at him, sees a tiny spot of blood trickling down his forehead from the wound received awhile since.,Over one high bank, across a stile, through another broken gap, on to a wall, straight and broad, up which Rodney pulls her, carefully taking her down in his arms at the other side.,That sinks again to silence.,Fortunately this dagger refuses to be shaken from its hold. Mona, feeling that fair play is at an end, and that treachery is asserting itself, turns instinctively to her faithful allies the bloodhounds, who have risen, and, with their hair standing straight on their backs, are growling ominously.,To demand the will from Paul Rodney without further proof that it is in his possession than the fact of having discovered by chance a secret cupboard is absurd; yet not to demand it seems madness. To see him, to reason with him, to accuse him of it, is her one desire; yet she can promise herself no good from such an interview. She sighs as she thus seeks aimlessly to see a satisfactory termination to all her meditations.,But Mona in such a case as this prefers being "taken in" (though she may object to the phrase), and in process of time grows positively fond of Lady Rodney.,"Late again, Jermyn," says Sir Nicholas, lazily.,"Yes; Gabriel—poor Gabriel and Evangeline," returns she, too wrapped up in recollections of that sad and touching tale to take to heart his meaning:—,Sir Nicholas, having gone leisurely through two of his letters, opens a third, and begins to peruse it rather carelessly. But hardly has he gone half-way down the first page when his face changes; involuntarily his fingers tighten over the luckless letter, crimping it out of all shape. By a supreme effort he suppresses an exclamation. It is all over in a moment. Then he raises his head, and the color comes back to his lips. He smiles faintly, and, saying something about having many things to do this morning, and that therefore he hopes they will forgive his running away from them in such a hurry he rises and walks slowly from the room.,"From whom?" demands Mona, lazily, seeing the writing is unknown to her.,"No, it couldn't be helped," says little Doatie. But their intervention only appears to add fuel to the fire of Lady Rodney's wrath..