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"I'm going to," says Nolly, "if you will just give me time. Oh, what a day I've been havin', and how dear! You know I told you I was going to the orchard for a stroll and with a view to profitable meditation. Well, I went. At the upper end of the garden there are, as you know, some Portugal laurels, from which one can get a splendid survey of the country, and in an evil moment it occurred to me that I should like to climb one of them and look at the Chetwoode Hills. I had never got higher than a horse's back since my boyhood, and visions of my earlier days, when I was young and innocent, overcame me at that——","Your description is graphic," he answers, lightly, "if faintly unkind; but when is the truth civil? You are right. Younger sons, as a rule, are not run after. Mammas do not hanker after them, or give them their reserve smiles, or pull their skirts aside to make room for them upon small ottomans.","We were talking of love, I think," says Rodney, innocently, as though the tender passion as subsisting between the opposite sexes had been the subject of the conversation.,"Yes, I am pretty," she says, after a minute's pause, with a long-drawn sigh of deepest satisfaction. Then she glances at Geoffrey. "And for your sake I am glad of it Now, come here and stand beside me," she goes on, presently, holding out her hand backwards as though loath to lose sight of her own reflection. "Let me see how you look in the water.",But all is still.,HOW THE THUNDER PIPE CAME,It is ten days later,—ten dreary, interminable days, that have struggled into light, and sunk back again into darkness, leaving no trace worthy of remembrance in their train. "Swift as swallows' wings" they have flown, scarce breaking the air in their flight, so silently, so evenly they have departed, as days will, when dull monotony marks them for its own.,"Is he there?" asks Mona, pointing with trembling fingers to the house.,"Yes, isn't it?" says Dorothy, quite in good faith; "though I don't know after all why it should be; we could see for ourselves; we knew all about it long ago!","Poor soul! poor soul!" says Mona, brokenly; then she drops her hand, and the woman, turning again to the lifeless body, as though in the poor cold clay lies her only solace, lets her head fall forward upon it.,"But what is to be done?" asks Nicholas, distractedly, though inexpressibly cheered by these professions of loyalty and devotion. "Your people won't hear of it.","Will not, you mean!".