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It is a light, not of stars or of moonbeams, but of a bona fide lamp, and as such is hailed by Mona, with joy. Evidently the thoughtful Jenkins has left it lighted there for Geoffrey's benefit when he returns. And very thoughtful, too, it is of him.,The breeze is so light that hardly a trembling of the leafless branches breaks the deadly silence that reigns all round:,"My dear child, don't talk like that," he says, nervously: "you're done up, you know. Come to bed.","Where?" says Mona, looking up quickly.,In the night, together, in sleep, without pain, their shadows had departed to the Sandhills.,Presently he went on down to the log-jam, and as he got near the place he saw the old man at work there, bending over, skinning a buffalo; for Kŭt-o-yĭs´, when he had seen the son-in-law coming, had lain down on the ground and hidden himself behind the carcass.,At this Mona, being a creature of impulse, grows once more pale and troubled.,"It was Tim Ryan," returns Mona, wearily, feeling unequal to a long story just at present.,THE BUFFALO-PAINTED LODGES,"Keep your kiss," exclaims he, savagely, "since it cost you such an effort to give it, and keep the parchment too. It is yours because of my love for you.","No?" raising an innocent face. "To much trouble, you think, perhaps. But, bless you, Geoffrey wouldn't mind that, so long as he was giving me pleasure." At which answer the duchess is very properly ashamed of both her self and her speech.,"Was it you?" asks he, raising himself on his elbow to regard her earnestly, though very loath to quit the spot where late he has been tenant. "You? Oh, Mona!".