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"You may depend upon me," says Rodney, lifting his hat, and respecting the elder man's care for the well-being of his beloved, even in the midst of his own immediate danger. Then, in another moment, Maxwell has turned his horse's head, and is soon out of sight. "Well, he was different," says Mona, giving in ignominiously. "I couldn't care for him either; but what I said is true all the same. Other people would not like me." This thought seems to overwhelm her. She raises her hands to her head, and an expression of keenest anguish creeps into her eyes. She sways a little, and would have fallen, but that Jack Rodney, who is nearest to her at this moment, catches her in his arms..

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"One must not hope for perfect happiness on this earth," says Mona, gravely; "but at least I know," with a soft and trusting glance at him, "I shall be happier than most people." "Where are you going?" asks Rodney, afraid lest his last speech has offended her. She has her hat on,—a big Gainsborough hat, round which soft Indian muslin is clinging, and in which she looks nothing less than adorable. "Now, this is kind,—very kind," says the little man, approvingly, shaking both their hands. "And so soon, too; no time lost. Poor soul! he is calling incessantly for you, my dear Mrs. Geoffrey. It is a sad case,—very—very. Away from every one he knows. But come in; come in." "But you couldn't fondle a pig on your knees," says Mona, who is growing every minute more and more mixed..