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"No, I shall pursue it to its end," returns, he, with slow malice, that makes her heart grow cold, "until the day comes that shall enable me to plant my heel upon these aristocrats and crush them out of recognition.",Down from the mountain's top the shadows are creeping stealthily: all around is growing dim, and vague, and mysterious, in the uncertain light.,"No, no," said Scarface, "we must not go there. Those are terrible birds; they will kill us.",And by degrees, beneath her influence, Mona grows pale and distrait and in many respects unlike her old joyous self. Each cold, reproving glance and sneering word,—however carefully concealed—falls like a touch of ice upon her heart, chilling and withering her glad youth. Up to this she has led a bird's life, gay, insouciant, free and careless. Now her song seems checked, her sweetest notes are dying fast away through lack of sympathy. She is "cribbed, cabined, and confined," through no fault of her own, and grows listless and dispirited in her captivity.,"A madness most discreet,,"I have heard of it. A third son would be poor, of course, and—and worldly people would not think so much of him as of others. Is that so?",She draws up her tall figure to its utmost height, and gazes at the raftered ceiling to see if inspiration can be drawn from thence. But it fails her.,He has so far recovered his courage that he has taken her hand, and is now holding it in a close grasp; and Mona, though a little frown still lingers on her low, broad forehead, lets her hand so lie without a censure.,"Mona, it has all been too much for you," exclaims he, with deep concern.,"That is what I am afraid of always," says Mona, a little wistfully.,"No doubt," returns his mother, sneeringly.,Mona, turning, confronts the frightened group in the corner, both men and women, with a face changed and aged by grief and indignation..