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"Not in England, perhaps. When I spoke I was thinking of Ireland," says Mona.,"Poor soul! poor soul!" says Mona, brokenly; then she drops her hand, and the woman, turning again to the lifeless body, as though in the poor cold clay lies her only solace, lets her head fall forward upon it.,After all, she has proved a great success. She has fought her fight, and gained her victory; but the conquered has deep reason to be grateful to her victor.,"It is like a fairy-tale," says Violet, with unwonted excitement. "Oh, Mona, tell us how you managed it.",Her companion is singularly silent. Scarce one word has escaped him since she first laid her hand upon his arm, and now again dumbness, or some hidden feeling, seals his lips.,"Nevertheless, close the curtains, Geoffrey, and ask Lady Rodney if she would not like tea now," says Violet, sotto voce.,He draws Mrs. Geoffrey's hand through his arm, and goes towards the lodge.,"If I was quite sure I shouldn't be dreadfully in the way," says Geoffrey, turning to Mona, she being mistress of the ceremonies.,"What are ye talkin' about? Get out, ye spalpeen," says the woman, with an outward show of anger, but a warning frown meant for the man alone. "Let her do as she likes. Is it spakin' of fear ye are to Dan Scully's daughter?","Why need you go until after Christmas?" she says, in a tone so low that he can barely hear her.,There is a ghostly tapping (as of some departed spirit who would fain enter once again into the old halls so long forgotten) against the window pane. Doubtless it is some waving branch flung hither and thither by the cruel tempest that rages without. Shadows come and go; and eerie thoughts oppress the breast:—,At this Lady Rodney sits quite upright, and turns appealingly to Violet. "Oh, Violet, I do hope not," she says..