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Oh, if by this one act of self-sacrifice she could restore the Towers with all its beauty and richness to Nicholas, and—and his mother,—how good a thing it would be! But will Geoffrey ever forgive her? Ah, sure when she explains the matter to him, and tells him how and why she did it, and how her heart bled in the doing of it, he will put his arms round her and pardon her sin. Nay, more, he may see how tender is the longing that compels her to the deed.,"Why, what is the matter?" he says, seeing signs of the lively storm on all their faces. Doatie explains hurriedly.,As he reaches the broad stream that divides him from the land he would reach, he pauses and tries to think of any decent excuse that may enable him to walk with a bold front up to the cottage door. But no such excuse presents itself. Memory proves false. It refuses to assist him. He is almost in despair.,They all examine it with interest, Nolly being specially voluble on the occasion.,Her tone is only too significant. His face has grown black again. A heavy frown sits on his brow.,"Oh, never mind your young and innocent days: we never heard of them," says Dorothy, impatiently. "Do get on to it.","Is it?" says she, a little wistfully. "You think so now; but if afterwards you should know regret, or——",Then he said to them, "Where are there some more people?" They told him there were some camps down the river and some up in the mountains, but they said, "Do not go up there. It is bad because there lives Āi-sīn´-o-kō-kī—Wind Sucker. He will kill you.","My mother is a real good sort when you know her," he says, evasively; "but she's rather rough on strangers. However, she is always all there, you know, so far as manners go, and that.","What a serious accusation! and one I think slightly unfounded. We don't despise this beautiful island or its people. We even admit that you possess a charm to which we can lay no claim. The wit, the verve, the pure gayety that springs direct from the heart that belongs to you, we lack. We are a terrible prosy, heavy lot capable of only one idea at a time. How can you say we despise you?","Perhaps I have. Do you deny I am in the right?" asks she, returning his gaze undauntedly.,"Down below in the hollow, miss,—jist behind the hawthorn-bush. Go home some other way, Miss Mona: they're bint on blood.".