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"Poor soul! poor soul!" says Mona, brokenly; then she drops her hand, and the woman, turning again to the lifeless body, as though in the poor cold clay lies her only solace, lets her head fall forward upon it. "I seek my wife," said the man, "whom you have stolen. There hang her eyes." "Darling, do you need an answer?".
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She herself destroys it presently. Another pause, longer than the last. "Don't say it! don't!" cries Mona, in an agony, stopping his mouth with her hand. "Do not! Yes, I give in. I will go with you. I will marry you any time you like, the sooner the better,"—feverishly; "anything to save your life!" "I want to very much," says poor Mona, her eyes filling with tears. "But," hopelessly, "must I begin by learning to tell lies?" All this teaching is very bitter to her..
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