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"I hope not, indeed," says Mona giving him her hand with a very flattering haste. "We must see," says Mona, thoughtfully. "Has he the will?" asks Mona, foolishly, but impulsively..

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"What has Mr. Moore to do with you?" he asks, haughtily. "Who is he, that he should so speak to you?" She turns from him wrathfully; and Geoffrey, disgusted with himself, steps back and makes no reply. With any other woman of his acquaintance he might perhaps at this juncture have made a mild request that he might be allowed to assist in the lacing or buttoning of her shoes; but with this strange little Irish girl all is different. To make such a remark would be, he feels, to offer her a deliberate insult. "Better give up the Irish plan, dear, and come with Nichols and me to the Nugents. They are easy-going people, and will suit you." Tired at length, and feeling somewhat chilled, Mona rouses herself from her reverie, and, followed by her two faithful guardians, moves towards the staircase. Passing the armored men that stand in niches along the walls, a little sensation of fear, a certain belief in the uncanny, runs through her. She looks in a terrified fashion over her left shoulder, and shudders perceptibly. Do dark fiery eyes look upon her in very truth from those ghastly visors?—surely a clank of supernatural armor smote upon her ear just then!.