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The momentous Friday comes at last, and about noon Mona and Geoffrey start for the Towers. They are not, perhaps, in the exuberant spirits that should be theirs, considering they are going to spend their Christmas in the bosom of their family,—at all events, of Geoffrey's family which naturally for the future she must acknowledge as hers. They are indeed not only silent, but desponding, and as they get out of the train at Greatham and enter the carriage sent by Sir Nicholas to meet them their hearts sink nearly into their boots, and for several minutes no words pass between them. "Not until two?" says Mona, growing miserable again. To the old women Kŭt-o-yĭs´ then said, "Now, grandmothers, where are there any more people? I want to travel about and see them.".
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"What does he say about the moon?" asks Mona, still with her knees in her embrace, and without lifting her eyes from the quiet waters down below. "When you gain your point and find yourself master here, you will know you have made not only one, but many people miserable." Yet does she not triumph over her beaten foe; nay, so different is it with her that she reaches forth her hand to raise her again, and strives by every tender means in her power to obliterate all memory of the unpleasant past. "Only!" says Mona. "Do you know, Mr. Moore has no more than that, and we think him very rich indeed! No, you have not been open with me: you should have told me. I haven't ever thought of you to myself as being a rich man. Now I shall have to begin and think of you a lover again in quite another light." She is evidently deeply aggrieved..
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