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Sinking into the cushioned embrasure of the window, Mona sits entranced, drinking in the beauty that is balm to her imaginative mind. The two dogs, with a heavy sigh, shake themselves, and then drop with a soft thud upon the ground at her feet,—her pretty arched feet that are half naked and white as snow: their blue slippers being all too loose for them.,"He was a man who never took off his hat," begins Geoffrey.,It is a very curious and obsolete, if singularly charming, performance, full of strange bows, and unexpected turnings, and curtseys dignified and deep.,Now, Lady Rodney is at home, but, having given strict orders to the servants to say she is anywhere else they like,—that is, to tell as many lies as will save her from intrusion,—is just now reposing calmly in the small drawing-room, sleeping the sleep of the just, unmindful of coming evil.,"What did she say, Mona?" inquired Doatie.,"Is that all?" says Violet, in a tone of surprise certainly, but as certainly in one of relief.,"I'm sure I don't wonder," says Geoffrey, very humbly. "I beg your pardon a thousand times; and—good-by, Miss Mona.",And could not if they durst,',"I didn't mean that, and I never hint," exclaims Mona, angrily; "and if you insist on the truth, if I must explain to you what I particularly desire to keep secret, you——",Unsoiled and swift, and of a silken sound.","I heard of it soon enough," returns his mother, gloomily, without lifting her eyes from the tiny feathered fire-screen she is holding. "Too soon! That sort of thing seldom tarries. 'For evil news rides post, while good news baits.'",Mona takes no notice of his words, but still stands by the table, with her hands folded, her long white robes clinging to her, her eyes lowered, her whole demeanor like that of some mediæval saint. So thinks Rodney, who is gazing at her as though he would forever imprint upon his brain the remembrance of a vision as pure as it is perfect..