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"How could you laugh?" says Mona, reproachfully.,When she has finished, Geoffrey says "thank you" in a low tone. He is thinking of the last time when some one else sang to him, and of how different the whole scene was from this. It was at the Towers, and the hour with its dying daylight, rises before him. The subdued light of the summer eve, the open window, the perfume of the drowsy flowers, the girl at the piano with her small drooping head and her perfectly trained and very pretty voice, the room, the soft silence, his mother leaning back in her crimson velvet chair, beating time to the music with her long jewelled, fingers,—all is remembered.,All these faults, and others of even less weight, are an abomination in the eyes of Lady Rodney, who has fallen into a prim mould, out of which it would now be difficult to extricate her.,"Of course you are all against me," Lady Rodney is saying, in a rather hysterical tone. "Even you, Violet, have taken up that girl's cause!" She says this expectantly, as though calling on her ally for support. But for once the ally fails her. Miss Mansergh maintains an unflinching silence, and seats herself in her low wicker chair before the fire with all the air of one who has made up her mind to the course she intends to pursue, and is not be enticed from it.,Mona has no time to hear more; pale, but collected, she walks deliberately into the room and up to Lady Rodney.,For an instant Rodney turns his eyes on her, and then goes back to his sneering examination of Geoffrey. Between them the two dogs still lie, quiet but eager.,"What does he say about it?" asks Violet, who shows no sign whatever of meaning to wear the willow for this misguided Benedict, but rather exhibits all a woman's natural curiosity to know exactly what he has said about the interesting event that has taken place.,It was all terrible,—this young man coming and the thought that, no matter how they might try to disbelieve in his story, still it might be true.,"Give me my answer," he says, sternly.,"And an unhallowed grave, too. And so you really felt miserable when angry with me? How do you feel now?" She is looking up at him, with love and content and an adorable touch of coquetry in her pretty face.,"Your foot is plainly 'on your native heath,'" says Nolly, "though your name may not be 'McGregor.' What on earth were you saying to that old woman for the last four hours?",'Meanwhile, apart, in the twilight gloom of a window's embrasure.