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"Perhaps then a little later on I shall go," returns Mona, who, like all her countrywomen, detests giving a direct answer, and can never bring herself to say a decided "no" to any one.,"I am not Mr. Rodney: Jack is that. Can't you call me anything else?","Do you mean you will not marry me?" asks he, letting her go, and moving back a step or two, a frown upon his forehead. "I confess I do not understand you.","Well, I rather think he has Violet on his mind. Did you ever see anything so spooney as they looked all through dinner yesterday and luncheon to-day? I didn't think it was in Violet.",He turns, as though by an irrepressible impulse, to look keenly at her. His scrutiny endures only for an instant. Then he says, with admirable indifference,—,"No, you must not think that. To wear anything that becomes you must be the perfection of dressing. Why wear a Tam O'Shanter hat when one looks hideous in it? And then too much study spoils effect: you know what Herrick says:—,"Would you like a fan, Nolly?" says Mona, with a laugh, yet really with a kindly view to rescuing him from his present dilemma. "Do you think you could find me mine? I fancy I left it in the morning-room.","Answer me," persists Mona, not heeding—nay, scarcely hearing—his last speech. "You said once it would be difficult to lie to me. Do you know anything of this missing will?","No hope!" says Mona, with terrible despair in her voice: "then I have killed him. It was I returned him that pistol this evening. It is my fault,—mine. It is I have caused his death.",A strong shudder runs through her frame; she grows a little heavier in his embrace. Seeing she has fainted, he lifts her in his arms and carries her out of the room.,"What is it?",They put him to rest in the family vault, where his ancestors lie side by side,—as Mona promised him,—and write Sir Paul Rodney over his head, giving him in death the title they would gladly have withheld from him in life..