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"Come home," says Mona, faintly. Now the actual danger is past, terror creeps over her, rendering her a prey to imaginary sights and sounds. "There may be others. Do not delay.",As he reaches the broad stream that divides him from the land he would reach, he pauses and tries to think of any decent excuse that may enable him to walk with a bold front up to the cottage door. But no such excuse presents itself. Memory proves false. It refuses to assist him. He is almost in despair.,"I sha'n't want to see them, perhaps," says Mona, apologetically, "but how shall I avoid it?",Turning sorrowfully away, she drops some silver into the poor widow's lap; whereon Geoffrey, who has been standing close to her all the time, covers it with two sovereigns.,"That is a pretty verse," she says, quietly. "But I do not know the poem. I should like to read it.",Paul turns his head, and as he sees Geoffrey a quick spasm that betrays fear crosses his face.,"No doubt," returns his mother, sneeringly.,"Oh, no! no!" says Mona, shrinking from him. "Why cherish such revenge in your heart? Would you kill me too, that you speak like this? Fling such thoughts far from you, and strive after good. Revenge is the food of fools.",Under the name Na´pi, Old Man, have been confused two wholly different persons talked of by the Blackfeet. The Sun, the creator of the universe, giver of light, heat, and life, and reverenced by every one, is often called Old Man, but there is another personality who bears the same name, but who is very different in his character. This last Na´pi is a mixture of wisdom and foolishness; he is malicious, selfish, childish, and weak. He delights in tormenting people. Yet the mean things he does are so foolish that he is constantly getting himself into scrapes, and is often obliged to ask the animals to help him out of his troubles. His bad deeds almost always bring their own punishment.,"Yes," she says, with cheeks colored to a rich carmine, and flashing eyes, and lips that quiver in spite of all her efforts at control, "that is the bit of heather you gave me, and that is the grass that tied it. I kept it because it reminded me of a day when I was happy. Now," bitterly, "I no longer care for it: for the future it can only bring back to me an hour when I was grieved and wounded.","If I am, Warden surely knows more about the will than he has sworn to.",On the middle of the rustic bridge before mentioned he stops her, to say, unexpectedly,—.