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The whole firmament is of a soft azure, flecked here and there with snowy clouds tipped with palest gray. A little cloud—the tenderest veil of mist—hangs between earth and sky.,She walks deliberately forward and enters the cabin, Geoffrey closely following her.,It is the 20th of February; already winter is dying out of mind, and little flowers are springing everywhere.,Mona is watching him intently.,"Oh! hardly!" says Violet with a soft laugh and another blush. "How could you?","Neither.",Her coming is a thunderbolt, her speech lightning. Lady Rodney changes color, and is for once utterly disconcerted.,"An overwhelming desire to see you again," returns this wise young man, in a tone that is absolutely abject.,"I hope you are enjoying yourself," she says, presently, hardly knowing what else to say.,Here the old woman at the fire, who has been getting up and down from her three-legged stool during the past few minutes, and sniffing at the pot in an anxious manner, gives way to a loud sigh of relief. Lifting the pot from its crook, she lays it on the earthen floor.,"Is it possible you see nothing to admire?" says Mona, with intense disgust.,The hound stalks on before them; the peacocks wake up and rend the air with a discordant scream. Lady Lilias, coming to the sundial, leans her arm upon it, and puts her head in the right position. A snail slowly travelling across a broad ivy-leaf attracts her attention; she lifts it slowly, leaf and all, and directs attention to the silvery trail it has left behind it..