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"To Bantry," says Mona, growing white again,—"to-night! Oh, do you want to kill me and yourself?",

As for the Australian, he has grown pale indeed, but is quite self-possessed, and the usual insolent line round his mouth has deepened. The dogs have by no means relaxed their vigil, but still crouch before him, ready for their deadly spring at any moment. It is a picture, almost a lifeless one, so motionless are all those that help to form it. The fading fire, the brilliant lamp, the open window with the sullen night beyond, Paul Rodney standing upon the hearthrug with folded arms, his dark insolent face lighted up with the excitement of what is yet to come, gazing defiantly at his cousin, who is staring back at him, pale but determined. And then Mona, in her soft white gown, somewhat in the foreground, with one arm (from which the loose sleeve of the dressing-gown has fallen back, leaving the fair rounded flesh to be seen) thrown around her husband's neck, is watching Rodney with an expression on her face that is half haughtiness, half nervous dread. Her hair has loosened, and is rippling over her shoulders, and down far below her waist; with her disengaged hand she is holding it back from her ear, hardly knowing how picturesque and striking is her attitude, and how it betrays each perfect curve of her lovely figure.,

"Yes. One can understand that," replies she, gravely, not heeding the closeness of his regard. "Many things affect me curiously," she goes on, dreamily,—"sad pictures and poetry and the sound of sweet music.",

"Mickey, if you are going, I think you may as well take the dogs with you," says Mona: "they, too, will want their suppers. Go, Spice, when I desire you. Good-night, Allspice; dear darling,—see how he clings to me."

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"I don't like Mr. Boer," says Mona, "and it was not me he came to see.",

"'Top corner,—right hand,'" goes on Mona, taking no heed of him, and speaking in the same low, mysterious, far-off tone.,

"I really don't know, ma'am. Mitchell gave it to me," says the girl, in an injured tone. Now, Mitchell is Lady Rodney's maid.,

"No, no indeed. I give you my honor, no," says Geoffrey, very earnestly, feeling that Fate has been more than kind to him in that she has denied him a handle to his name.