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"What a strange name yours is!—Nolly," says Mona, presently.,At this Lady Rodney sits quite upright, and turns appealingly to Violet. "Oh, Violet, I do hope not," she says.,"It almost amounts to it," says Nicholas, with a frown.,"This spot always brings to my mind the thoughts of other people," says Mona, softly. "I am very fond of poetry: are you?",A pause. Mona mechanically but absently goes on with her work, avoiding all interchange of glances with her deceitful lover. The deceitful lover is plainly meditating a fresh attack. Presently he overturns an empty churn and seats himself on the top of it in a dejected fashion.,Having said this, she turns her back upon him contemptuously, and walks towards her home.,At this he would have drawn her into his arms, hoping her gayety may mean forgiveness and free absolution for all things said and done the day before; but she recoils from him.,"Yes, let us," says Mona, gayly.,"But this is very sad for you, isn't it?" she says, feeling herself in duty bound to say something.,"It appears he had a pocket-pistol with him, Sir Nicholas, and going home through the wood he stumbled over some roots, and it went off and injured him fatally. It is an internal wound, my lady. Dr. Bland, who is with him, says there is no hope.","No? did it?" says Nolly, sentimentally. "How—how awfully satisfactory it is to know we both thought alike on even one subject!","She took her to see the lake. Mona, you know, raves about it, when the moon lights it up..