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"Yes,—so far," returns she, coldly.,She herself destroys it presently.,"Yes, very beautiful," he answers, thinking of the stately oaks and aged elms and branching beeches that go so far to make up the glory of the ivied Towers.,Lady Rodney regards him curiously, trying to read his downcast face. Has the foolish boy at last been brought to see a flaw in his idol of clay?,"And see what we gained by our haste," says Dorothy, smiling at Mona. "You can't think what a charming sight it was. Like an old legend or a fairy-tale. Was it a minuet you were dancing?",At this point, Geoffrey—who has been hunting all the morning—enters the room with Captain Rodney.,She sighs. There is pathos and sweetness and tenderness in every line of her face, and much sadness. Her lips are slightly parted, "her eyes are homes of silent prayer." Paul, watching her, feels as though he is in the presence of some gentle saint, sent for a space to comfort sinful earth.,"How d'ye do, Mrs. Rodney? Is Lady Rodney at home? I hope so," says Mrs. Carson, a fat, florid, smiling, impossible person of fifty.,At home—in Sydney, I mean—the life was different. It was free, unfettered, and in a degree lawless. It suited me better.",And silence swells into a dreamy sound,,Later on, when they open the paper that had been given by the dead man into the keeping of Dr. Bland, and which proves to be his will, duly signed and witnessed by the gamekeeper and his son, they find he has left to Mona all of which he died possessed. It amounts to about two thousand a year; of which one thousand is to come to her at once, the other on the death of his mother.,"I will—when I find it," returns she, with an irrepressible glance, full of native but innocent coquetry, from her beautiful eyes..