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"Are you sure?" asks he, his face brightening. "Remember how they have drawn back from me. I was their own first-cousin,—the son of their father's brother,—yet they treated me as the veriest outcast.","What a serious accusation! and one I think slightly unfounded. We don't despise this beautiful island or its people. We even admit that you possess a charm to which we can lay no claim. The wit, the verve, the pure gayety that springs direct from the heart that belongs to you, we lack. We are a terrible prosy, heavy lot capable of only one idea at a time. How can you say we despise you?",So peace is restored, and presently, forsaking the pats of butter and the dairy, they wander forth into the open air, to catch the last mild breezes that belong to the dying day.,"Go," she says, again, entreatingly, still with her hand on Geoffrey's breast, as though to keep him back, but with her eyes on Paul.,"Sure Miss Mona can," says Biddy, turning to her young mistress, and standing in the doorway in her favorite position,—that is, with her bare arms akimbo, and her head to one side like a magpie. "She's raal clever at dhressin' an' doctherin' an' that.","Angry? no!" he says, recovering himself, as he notices the penitence on the face upraised to his.,"Oh, Mona, what courage you showed! Just imagine staying in the library when you found yourself face to face with a person you never expected to see, and in the dead of night, with every one sound asleep! In your case I should either have fainted or rushed back to my bedroom again as fast as my feet could carry me; and I believe," says Dorothy, with conviction, "I should so far have forgotten myself as to scream every inch of the way.","She is very seldom at home, but I think I like her better than any one I ever met.",All this time the old man was watching him, for he said in his heart, "This seems a good young man and a good hunter. Perhaps I will give him my daughters for wives, and then he will stay here and help me always.",Mona grows livid, and takes a step forward.,"If they could only hear us now!" murmurs Geoffrey, addressing no one in particular.,"Poor soul! poor soul!" says Mona, brokenly; then she drops her hand, and the woman, turning again to the lifeless body, as though in the poor cold clay lies her only solace, lets her head fall forward upon it..