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At this instant a soft ringing laugh, that once heard is not easily forgotten, comes from an inner room, that is carefully curtained and delicately lighted, and smites upon their ears.,"To-day, you mean: you will only have to wait a few short hours," she says, gratefully. "Let us leave this hateful room," with a shudder. "I shall never be able to enter it again without thinking of this night and all its horrors.","Thank you," says Geoffrey, "but——","That is true," says Mona; "but it does not apply to me; and it is for you only I fear. Let me say just this: I have thought it all over; there were many hours in which to think, because I could not sleep——",The moments come and go. The fire is dying out. No sound but that of the falling cinders comes to disturb the stillness that reigns within the library. Mona is vaguely, wondering what the end of it all will be. And then at last the silence is broken. A noise upon the gravel outside, a quick rush up the balcony steps; some one emerges from the gloom of the night, and comes into the room through the open window. Mona utters a passionate cry of relief and joy. It is Geoffrey!,Lone Feather looked at her for a moment in silence. She spoke again. He could not understand her speech, for she belonged to another tribe. By signs she made him know that she wished him to come into her lodge and rest. Lone Feather entered.,To-morrow will be market-day in Bantry, to which the week's butter must go; and now the churning is over, and the result of it lies cold and rich and fresh beneath Mona's eyes. She herself is busily engaged printing little pats off a large roll of butter that rests on the slab before her; her sleeves are carefully tucked up, as on that first day when Geoffrey saw her; and in defiance of her own heart—which knows itself to be sad—she is lilting some little foolish lay, bright and shallow as the October sunshine that floods the room, lying in small silken patches on the walls and floor.,"I shall remember," says Mona, not knowing what the paper contains. "And who am I, that I should dwell upon the sins of another? Are you tired, Paul? How fearfully pale you are looking!",This old woman had a kind heart. She made him moccasins—seven pairs; and gave him also a sack of food—pemican, dried meat, and back fat.,"She is not brainless; she was only frightened. It certainly was an ordeal coming to a house for the first time to be, in effect, stared at. And she is very young.",He moves towards the door with "pride in his port, defiance in his eye," as Goldsmith would say.,and the sobbing waves break themselves with impotent fury upon the giant walls of granite that line the coast, and the clouds descend upon the hills, and the sea-birds shriek aloud, and all nature seems to cry for Mona..