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"Better," says Mona, laughing gayly. Miss Darling—Sir Nicholas's fiancee—and her brother are expected to night; and so the household generally has dressed itself earlier than usual to be in full readiness to receive them. "You would have been her henchman,—is that right, Nicholas?—or her varlet," says Dorothy, with conviction, "And you would have had to stain your skin, and go round with a cross-bow, and with your mouth widened from ear to ear to give you the correct look. All æsthetic people have wide mouths, have they not, Nicholas?".
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Her eyes fill with tears. Yet pretty Dorothy at her very best moments had never looked, nor ever could look, as lovely as Mona appears now, as she stands with her hands loosely clasped before her, and the divine light of pity in her eyes, that are shining softly like twin stars. "Bless me!" says Geoffrey; "what an appalling thought! it makes me feel faint." "It was two hours ago," says Mona, gently. "And then it was quite daylight, or at least"—truthfully—"only the beginning of dusk.".
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