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CHAPTER XIV. "Quite sure," returns her future mother-in law, grimly. "I never speak, Dorothy, without foundation for what I say." "The day is done, and the darkness falls from the wings of night." The dusk is slowly creeping up over all the land, the twilight is coming on apace. As the day was, so is the gathering eve, sad and mournful, with sounds of rain and sobbings of swift winds as they rush through the barren beeches in the grove. The harbor bar is moaning many miles away, yet its voice is borne by rude Boreas up from the bay to the walls of the stately Towers, that neither rock nor shiver before the charges of this violent son of "imperial Æolus.".

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"When I bring you to my home," says Geoffrey, "I shall have you painted just in that gown, and with a spinning-wheel before you; and it shall be hung in the gallery among the other—very inferior—beauties." "Nicholas!" cries his mother, faintly: "this is too much!" "My heart was broken, and by you: that was why. How could you say the cruel things you did? To tell me it would be better for me to cut my throat than marry you! That was abominable of you, Mona, wasn't it now? And to make me believe you meant it all, too!" says this astute young man. Two tears gather, and roll slowly down Mona's white cheeks. And then somehow her thoughts wander back to the old farmhouse at the side of the hill, with the spreading trees behind it, and to the sanded floor and the cool dairy, and the warmth of the love that abounded there, and the uncle, who, if rough, was at least ready to believe her latest action—whatever it might be—only one degree more perfect than the one that went before it..