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"Oh, poor Nicholas!" says Mona sadly, "and poor little Doatie!","Yes, and——",There is a ghostly tapping (as of some departed spirit who would fain enter once again into the old halls so long forgotten) against the window pane. Doubtless it is some waving branch flung hither and thither by the cruel tempest that rages without. Shadows come and go; and eerie thoughts oppress the breast:—,About a week after her arrival—she having expressed her admiration of ferns the night before—he draws her hand through his arm and takes her to his own special sanctum,—off which a fernery has been thrown, he being an enthusiastic grower of that lovely weed.,"But you like Lady Rodney?" says Mona, in a puzzled tone.,"Ye—es; he will do," says Mona, after a second's careful thought, and even now reluctantly.,"I tell you I have not," says Geoffrey. "Nothing of the sort. You are wool-gathering.","Does he really?" asks Mona, with eyes wide open. "I am sure if I ever meet your brother Nick I shall be dreadfully afraid of him.","You are worn out, my love, my sweetheart," says Geoffrey, very tenderly, speaking to her as though she is in years the child that, in her soul, she truly is. "Come, Mona, you will not cry on this night of all others that has made me yours and you mine! If this thought made you as happy as it makes me, you could not cry. Now lift your head, and let me look at you. There! you have given yourself to me, darling, and there is a good life, I trust, before us; so let us dwell on that, and forget all minor evils. Together we can defy trouble!","From whom?" demands Mona, lazily, seeing the writing is unknown to her.,Then, after a pause, "Where will they bury me?" he asks, suddenly. "Do you think they will put me in the family vault?" He seems to feel some anxiety on this point.,He drops his eyes, and the low, sneering laugh she has learned to know and to hate so much comes again to his lips..