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"Dear Lady Rodney, I shouldn't take that so much to heart," says Violet, gently leaning over her. "Quite good people are Catholics now, you know. It is, indeed, the fashionable religion, and rather a nice one when you come to think of it." There is a sparkle in Mona's eyes, a slight severing of her lips, that bespeak satisfaction and betray her full of very innocent appreciation of her own beauty. She stands well back, with her head held proudly up, and with her hands lightly clasped before her. Her attitude is full of unstudied grace. "You used to be tremendous friends there at one time," says Geoffrey; "never out of the house.".
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"No one," says Mona. "I had no need to ask permission for anything. I was free to do what I wished." These sounds, vague and harmonious as they are, yet full of mystery and unexplained sadness, but serve to heighten the fear that chills her heart. Her meaning, in spite of her, is clear; but Geoffrey doesn't dare so much as to think about it. Yet in his heart he knows that he is glad because of her words. "Well, just after luncheon Letitia, your maid, brought me a note. I opened it. It was from Paul Rodney, asking me to meet him at three o'clock, as he had something of importance to say that concerned not me but those I loved. When he said that," says Mona, looking round upon them all with a large, soft, comprehensive glance, and a sweet smile, "I knew he meant you. So I went. I got into my coat and hat, and ran all the way to the spot he had appointed,—the big chestnut-tree near the millstream: you know it, Geoff, don't you?".
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