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Mona hesitates, then says, shyly, with downcast eyes,— "Very. But for myself I have no voice worth hearing. I sing, you know, a little, which is my misfortune, not my fault; don't you think so?" "Oh, nothing," says Mona, flushing. "I suppose I was lonely. Don't mind me. Tell me all about yourself and your visit.".

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"I will, darlin', shurely," says Bridget, who adores the ground she walks on; and then, turning, she leaves her. Mona lays her hand on Geoffrey's arm. "What a little patriot!" says Rodney, pretending fear and stepping back from her. "Into what dangerous company have I fallen! And with what an accent you say 'your queen'! Do you then repudiate her? Is she not yours as well? Do you refuse to acknowledge her?" "I suffer nothing: I have no pain now. I am inexpressibly, happy," replies he, with a smile radiant, though languid. Forgetful of his unfortunate state, he raises his other hand, and, bringing it across the bed, tries to place it on Mona's. But the action is too much for him. His face takes a leaden hue, more ghastly than its former pallor, and, in spite of an heroic effort to suppress it, a deep groan escapes him. "Nay, you can say all that on your way back, an' get a half-shot into the bargain," says old Scully, heartily. "You'll hardly beat the potheen I can give ye." He winks knowingly, pats Rodney kindly on the shoulder, and leads the way out of the house. Yet I think Geoffrey would willingly have bartered potheen, partridge, and a good deal more, for just one last glance at Mona's beautiful face before parting. Cheered, however, by the prospect that he may see her before night falls, he follows the farmer into the open air..