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And so does Captain Rodney.,"Because"—the smile has died away now, and she is looking down upon him, as he lies stretched at her feet in the uncertain moonlight, with an expression sad but earnest,—"because, though I am only a farmer's niece, I cannot bear farmers, and, of course, other people would not care for me.","Oh! if you mean by that you want to get rid of me, you might have said so long ago, without all this hinting," says Mr. Rodney, huffily, preparing to beat an indignant retreat.,"At home," returns he. He is gazing out of the window, with his hands clasped behind his back, and does not pay so much attention to her words as is his wont.,Now from the fire again arose the smell of roasting meat. The children ate and played. Those who so long had been silent now talked and laughed.,Her tone is so unpleasant and so significant that silence falls upon the room. Geoffrey says nothing. Perhaps he alone among them fails to understand the meaning of her words. He seems lost in thought. So lost, that the others, watching him, wonder secretly what the end of his meditations will bring forth: yet, one and all, they mistake him: no doubt of Mona ever has, or ever will, I think, cross his mind.,"Miss Scully, is it you?" he says, at length; "and here at this hour?",Is scorned abroad, and lives on tricks at home?","Keep your kiss," exclaims he, savagely, "since it cost you such an effort to give it, and keep the parchment too. It is yours because of my love for you.",It is the morning after Lady Chetwoode's ball. Every one has got down to breakfast. Every one is in excellent spirits, in spite of the fact that the rain is racing down the window-panes in torrents, and that the post is late.,"Then I suppose when there you were too young to go out?" pursues the poor duchess, striving for information.,Behind the house rises a thick wood,—a "solemn wood," such as Dickens loved to write of, with its lights and shades and every-varying tints. A gentle wind is rushing through it now; the faint murmur of some "hidden brook," singing its "quiet tune," fall upon the ear; some happy birds are warbling in the thickets. It is a day whose beauty may be felt..