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"Is—is Violet Mansergh a pretty girl?" asks Mona, grasping instinctively at the fact that any one called Violet Mansergh may be a possible rival.,"What is it?" asks he, quick to notice any change in her.,"And the child,—Miss Mona?" asks Geoffrey.,"Well, you know that's better than a farmer's common niece," says Jack, consolingly.,"Well, really, do you know, I think she did!" says Mona, so demurely that they all smile again.,"Yes; let me go to him," says Mona, quickly; "I shall know what to say better than you.",In the distance a woman is bending over a keeler making up a huge mass of butter into rolls, nicely squared and smoothed, to make them look their best and handsomest to-morrow.,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!,"Yes, quite in time," says Mona. Then she pauses, looking at him so earnestly that he is compelled to return her gaze. "You shall have another dance," she says, in her clear voice, that is perfectly distinct to every one; "but you must not call me Mrs. Rodney: I am only Mrs. Geoffrey!","I feel no pain," returns he, gallantly.,Indeed, no sound disturbs the sacred silence save the crisp rustle of the dead leaves, as they are trodden into the ground.,Now during this day there had been blowing a warm wind which had melted the snow, so that the prairie was covered with water, yet this young man's moccasins and leggings were dry. They saw this, and were frightened. They sat there for a long time, saying nothing..