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Mona, after a stare of bewilderment that dies at its birth, gives way to laughter: she is still standing on the chair, and looking down on Nolly, who is adoring her in the calm and perfectly open manner that belongs to him.,"Your husband called me 'thief.' I have not forgotten that," replies he, gloomily, the dark blood of his mother's race rushing to his cheek. "I shall remember that insult to my dying day. And let him remember this, that if ever I meet him again, alone, and face to face, I shall kill him for that word only.","Yes. I forgive you," she says, almost in a whisper, with a seriousness that amounts to solemnity.,He is a tall young man, about thirty-two, yet looking younger, with a somewhat sallow complexion, large dreamy brown eyes, and very fine sleek black hair. He wears neither moustache nor whiskers, principally for the very good reason that Nature has forgotten to supply them. For which perhaps he should be grateful, as it would have been a cruel thing to hide the excessive beauty of his mouth and chin and perfectly-turned jaw. These are his chief charms, being mild and thoughtful, yet a trifle firm, and in perfect accordance with the upper part of his face. He is hardly handsome, but is certainly attractive.,"Why, indeed, unless you wished to possess yourself of something in the old room?","Is it you?" she says. "Come in here, Geoffrey. I want you.",They are both silent for a little while, and then Dorothy says, softly,—,It is a very pretty room, filled with a subdued light, and with a blazing fire at one end. All bespeaks warmth, and home, and comfort, but to Mona in her present state it is desolation itself. The three occupants of the room rise as she enters, and Mona's heart dies within her as a very tall statuesque woman, drawing herself up languidly from a lounging-chair, comes leisurely up to her. There is no welcoming haste in her movements, no gracious smile, for which her guest is thirsting, upon her thin lips.,"Is she also to learn that you are at liberty to lecture your own mother?" asks Lady Rodney, pale with anger.,"Yes. I thank you for your goodness," returns he, slowly.,"I can tell you no more; I will not; and you must never ask me. It is enough that I speak the truth, and that I have been able to save your life.","I should never be afraid of him," returns Mona. "He has kind eyes. He is"—slowly and meditatively—"very like you.".