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"Sometimes I long again for a mad, wild gallop straight across country, where nobody can see me,—such as I used to have," goes on Mona, half regretfully.,Some time elapses before he speaks again, and Mona is almost hoping he may have fallen into a quiet slumber, when he opens his eyes and says, regretfully,—,Mona obeys, feeling no shrinking from the kindly stout lady who is evidently bent on being "all things" to her. It does occur, perhaps, to her laughter-loving mind that there is a paucity of nose about the duchess, and a rather large amount of "too, too solid flesh;" but she smothers all such iniquitous reflections, and commences to talk with her gayly and naturally.,"I don't want to see her," is the unflinching and most ungracious reply.,Those who wish to know something about how the people lived who told these stories will find their ways of life described in the last chapter of this book.,"It is the most unhappy thing I ever heard of," begins Doatie, desperately. "What Lady Rodney can see to dislike in you, Mona, I can't imagine. But the fact is, she is hateful to you. Now, we," glancing at Violet, "who are not particularly amiable, are beloved by her, whilst you, who are all 'sweetness and light,' she detests most heartily.",Then his daughter mourned in sorrow. "Oh! Ah! Ni-nah-ah! Oh! Ah! Ni-nah-ah!"—Ah, my father, my father.,Once there she has to go with him down the narrow woodland path, there being no other, and so paces on, silently, and sorely against her will.,"No?" says Lauderdale, laughing. "But why, then? There is no other Mrs. Rodney, is there?","Ever heard of Botany Bay?" asks he, idly; but, this question being distinctly frivolous, she takes no notice of it. "Well, it's in Ireland," he goes on, after a slight but dignified pause. "You have heard of the Emerald Isle, I suppose? It's the country where they grow potatoes, and say 'bedad'; and Bantry is somewhere south, I think. I'm never very sure about anything: that's one of my charms.",Here she turns and looks him full in the face; and something—it may be in the melancholy of his expression—so amuses her that (laughter being as natural to her lips as perfume to a flower) she breaks into a sunny smile, and holds out to him her hand in token of amity.,"No, he breathes," he says. "He will live, no doubt. Vermin are hard to kill. And if he does die," bitterly, "what matter? Dog! Let him die there! The road is too good a place for him.".