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In the house of Rodney there is mourning and woe. Horror has fallen upon it, and something that touches on disgrace. Lady Rodney, leaning back in her chair with her scented handkerchief pressed close to her eyes, sobs aloud and refuses to be comforted. "If I was quite sure I shouldn't be dreadfully in the way," says Geoffrey, turning to Mona, she being mistress of the ceremonies. "That is absurd," says Rodney; "and your own words refute you. That man called Moore cared for you, and very great impertinence it was on his part.".
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Conrad
"I will do as you ask," she says, wondering when the interview will come to an end. "They didn't get on for long," he says, mournfully,—and what voice is so full of melancholy as the Irish voice when it sinks into sadness? "When the little one—Mona—was barely five years old, they went to ground; Mount Jerome got them. Fever it was; and it carried 'em both off just while ye'd have time to look round ye. Poor souls, they went to the blessed land together. Perhaps the Holy Virgin knew they would have got on badly without each other anywhere." Slowly she turns her head away from him, and, as though following out a train of thought, fixes her eyes upon the panelled wall in front of her. Rodney, standing on the threshold at the end of the small hall, can hear distinctly all that passes..
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