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Geoffrey, with his gun upon his shoulder, trudges steadily onward rejoicing in the freshness of the morning air. "How tender! how touching!" she says, with a pensive smile, raising her luminous eyes to Geoffrey: whether it is the snail, or the leaf, or the slime, that is tender and touching, nobody knows; and nobody dares ask, lest he shall betray his ignorance. Nolly, I regret to say, gives way to emotion of a frivolous kind, and to cover it blows his nose sonorously. Whereupon Geoffrey, who is super-naturally grave, asks Lady Lilias if she will walk with him as far as the grotto. "I'll take it," says Nicholas; "but, even if you did, I should still owe you a debt of gratitude for bringing Doatie here thirty minutes before we hoped for her.".

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And confident to morrow." "Do not stir," says Mona, hastily, pointing to the bloodhounds. Allspice has risen—so has the hair on his back—and is looking thunder-claps at Paul. A low growl breaks from him. He is plainly bent upon reducing to reason whosoever shall dispute the will of his beloved mistress. "The dogs know their orders, and will obey me. Down, Allspice, down. You will do well, sir, to remain exactly where you are," continues Mona. "My dear, what I could do, I have done," says the little man, patting her hand in his kind fatherly fashion; "but he has gone beyond human skill. And now one thing: you have come here, I know, with the tender thought of soothing his last hours: therefore I entreat you to be calm and very quiet. Emotion will only distress him, and, if you feel too nervous, you know—perhaps—eh?" Geoffrey, moving to one side, stands where he can no longer be seen, feeling instinctively that the ebbing life before him finds its sole consolation in the thought of Mona. She is all he desires. From her he gains courage to face the coming awful moment, when he shall have to clasp the hand of Death and go forth with him to meet the great unknown..