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"Thank ye, miss. Ye mane it kindly, I know," says the woman, wearily. "But the big world is too small to hold one dhrop of comfort for me. He's dead, ye see!",Miss Mona looks puzzled.,It is Paul Rodney.,And pleasant, too, to think on.'",The two were standing in plain sight of the camp and the people in it, and some one went to the chief's lodge and told him what was taking place.,Down from the mountain's top the shadows are creeping stealthily: all around is growing dim, and vague, and mysterious, in the uncertain light.,"Did she have both together on her knee?" asks Dorothy, vaguely. "She must have found it heavy.","Violet, please do not talk like that; I forbid it," says Lady Rodney, in a horrified tone. "Nothing could make me think well of anything connected with this—this odious girl; and when you speak like that you quite upset me. You will be having your name put in that horrid list of perverts in the 'Whitehall Review' if you don't take care.","You must understand," she says emphatically, "he did not shoot himself purposely. It was an accident,—a pure accident.",There is a pause. In shrinking doubt she awaits the moment that shall make him take advantage of her words. But that moment never comes. In vain she waits. At length she lifts her eyes, and he, flinging the parchment at her feet, cries, roughly,—,"How you were all laughing when we came in!" says Violet, presently: "we could hear you all along the corridor. What was it about?",But Mona's eyes see nothing but one object only..