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"I am indeed dear to you, I think," says Mona, softly and thankfully, growing a little pale through the intensity of her emotion. "To ask the question is a rudeness," she says, steadily, though her heart is cold and hurt. "Yet I will answer you. In our country, and in our class," with an amount of inborn pride impossible to translate, "we do not marry a man because he is 'rich,' or in other words, sell ourselves for gold." The very air is still. There is no sound, no motion, save the coming and going of their own breath as it rises quickly from their hearts, filled full of passionate admiration for the loveliness before them..
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"She went to live in Anthrim with her mother's sister. Later she got to Dublin, to her aunt there,—another of the parson's daughters,—who married the Provost in Thrinity; a proud sort he was, an' awful tiresome with his Greeks an' his Romans, an' not the height of yer thumb," says Mr. Scully, with ineffable contempt. "I went to Dublin one day about cattle, and called to see me niece; an' she took to me, bless her, an' I brought her down with me for change of air, for her cheeks were whiter than a fleece of wool, an' she has stayed ever since. Dear soul! I hope she'll stay forever. She is welcome." "Oh, one at a time," says Nolly. "She couldn't do it all at once. Such a stretch of fancy requires thought." "Now he is thinking of that horrid lawsuit again," says Nolly, regretfully, who is a really good sort all round. "Let us go to him." "Something," replies he, with a short laugh. "I shall at least see you again on the 19th.".
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