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"Who can it be?" asked the young man. "Who camps there alone, far from friends?" "You look like Marguerite. A very lovely Marguerite," says Geoffrey, idly, gazing at her rather dreamily. "And 'he is happier now than he has ever been in all his life before.' Pshaw!" exclaims Sir Nicholas, shutting up the letter impatiently. "He is mad!".
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"Well, we have both seen the bay," says Mona, cheerfully,—"Bantry Bay I mean: so we can talk about that. Yet indeed"—seriously—"you cannot be said to have seen it properly, as it is only by moonlight its full beauty can be appreciated. Then, with its light waves sparkling beneath the gleam of the stars, and the moon throwing a path across it that seems to go on and on, until it reaches heaven, it is more satisfying than a happy dream. Do you see that hill up yonder?" pointing to an elevation about a mile distant: "there I sometimes sit when the moon is full, and watch the bay below. There is a lovely view from that spot." "No. Play anything monotonous, that is slow and dignified besides, and it will answer; in fact, anything at all," says Geoffrey, largely, at which Violet smiles and seats herself at the piano. "Don't!" says Darling, weakly. "Don't put it in that light. It's too feeble. If you said I was madly in love with your wife you would be nearer the mark, as insanity touches on it. I haven't felt so badly for years. It is right down unlucky for me, this meeting with Mrs. Rodney." "Oh, it wasn't much," says the young man, easily; "and he needn't have cut up so rough about it. I was a failure, of course, but I couldn't help it; and, after all, I had a real good time in spite if everything, and enjoyed myself when there down to the ground.".
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