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"But I shall be more content so; and even if I went to bed I could not sleep. Besides, I shall not be companionless when the small hours begin to creep upon me." As they enter, mirth ceases. A remarkable silence falls upon the group. Everybody looks at anything but Violet and her companion. "I parted the leaves of the laurel with cautious hand and looked down. At my very feet were Jack and Violet, and"—mysteriously—"she was pinning a flower into his coat!".
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At this Mona breaks into a sweet but ringing laugh, that makes Lady Rodney (who is growing sleepy, and, therefore, irritable) turn, and fix upon her a cold, reproving glance. "I am Paul Rodney," he now volunteers,—"your husband's cousin, you know. I suppose," with a darkening of his whole face, "now I have told you who I am, it will not sweeten your liking for me." "No hope!" says Mona, with terrible despair in her voice: "then I have killed him. It was I returned him that pistol this evening. It is my fault,—mine. It is I have caused his death." "It would be rude to deny that," he says, with a slight shrug. "I am sure you are always in the right.".
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