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There is no grate, and the fire, which has plainly made up its mind not to light, is composed of Yule-logs. The floor is shining with sand, rushes having palled on Lady Lilias.,A dead silence follows. Lady Rodney raises her head, scenting mischief in the air.,"Late again, Jermyn," says Sir Nicholas, lazily.,"Oh, Nolly, what?" says Mona; "do tell us." She fixes her eyes on his.,"Nevertheless, to oblige me," entreats he, hastily.,"No, it couldn't be helped," says little Doatie. But their intervention only appears to add fuel to the fire of Lady Rodney's wrath.,"'Is thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing?'" quotes Mr. Rodney; and, Mona having got into her shoes, she tells him he is at liberty to follow her across the rustic bridge lower down, that leads from the wood into Mangle Farm.,And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,"Do you distrust me?" says Rodney,—this time really hurt, because his love for her is in reality deep and strong and thorough.,"I am afraid you are right," says Mona. "Oh, why did you come over at all?","I was hateful to you just now, and most unjust.","You will introduce me to your wife?" she asks, after a few minutes, in her even, trainante voice, and is then taken up to the big arm-chair before the fire, and is made known to Mona..