Guess Which Hand

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All the servants have received orders to go to bed, and on no account to sit up for Mr. Rodney, as he can let himself in in his own way,—a habit of his for many years. Doubtless, then, one of them had placed this lamp in the library with some refreshments for him, should he require them.,"Think of it now, Paul,—now before it is too late," entreats she, piteously. "Try to pray: there is always mercy.",An hour later, coming out of it again, feeling harassed and anxious, he finds Dorothy walking restlessly up and down the corridor outside, as though listening for some sound she pines to hear. Her pretty face, usually so bright and debonnaire, is pale and sad. Her lips are trembling.,"You are slightly nonsensical when on the subject of Mona," says Sir Nicholas, with a shrug. "Intrigue and she could not exist in the same atmosphere. She is to Lauderdale what she is to everyone else,—gay, bright, and utterly wanting in self-conceit. I cannot understand how it is that you alone refuse to acknowledge her charms. To me she is like a little soft sunbeam floating here and there and falling into the hearts of those around her, carrying light, and joy, and laughter, and merry music with her as she goes.",Lady Rodney regards him curiously, trying to read his downcast face. Has the foolish boy at last been brought to see a flaw in his idol of clay?,A little soft woollen shawl of plain white has slipped from her throat and fallen to the ground, unheeded by her in her great distress. Lifting it almost unwillingly, he comes close to her, and places it round her once again. In so doing he discovers that tears are running down her cheeks.,"Oh, how pretty!" cries one of them from the shadow as though grieved the dance has come so quickly to an end "How lovely!",With this she inclines her head, and without another word goes back by the way she has come.,"An' a nate color too," says this woman, who is bare-footed, beneath her breath, regarding with admiration the yellow tint of the object on which she is engaged. Two pullets, feathered like a partridge, are creeping stealthily into the dairy, their heads turned knowingly on one side, their steps slow and cautious; not even the faintest chirrup escapes them, lest it be the cause of their instant dismissal. There is no sound anywhere but the soft music that falls from Mona's lips.,"Perhaps it will all come right at last. Oh! if some kind good fairy would but come to our aid and help us to confound our enemies!",As he approached, an old woman, bent with age and crippled, came from the lodge door and looked at him.,"No, she was not in the lodge, but two women were approaching as I left it. I think they were the girl and her mother.".