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"I can give you the size of my waist and my shoulders, and my length," says Mona, thoughtfully, yet with a touch of inspiration. "'A haughty spirit comes before a fall,'" quotes he contemptuously. "Ai," replied Mā-mĭn´, "I do love you; only you. All the other young men pass before me as shadows. I scarcely see them, but I cannot do what you ask. I cannot go away and leave my mother to mourn; she who loves me so well. Let us wait a little. Go to war. Do something great and brave. Then perhaps you will not uselessly ask my father to give me to you.".
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Over the meadows and into the wood goes Mona, to where a streamlet runs, that is her special joy,—being of the garrulous and babbling order, which is, perhaps, the nearest approach to divine music that nature can make. But to-day the stream is swollen, is enlarged beyond all recognition, and, being filled with pride at its own promotion, has forgotten its little loving song, and is rushing onward with a passionate roar to the ocean. So Mrs. Rodney says, "It was rather better than I anticipated, thank you," in a tone so icy that his is warm beside it. The extreme pain, and the pressure—the actual weight—of the powerful animal, tell. Rodney falls back, and with an oath staggers against the mantelpiece. "Go back to Bantry," says Mona, not heeding his evident surprise, "at once,—now. Do not delay. There are those waiting for you on the Tullymore road who will take your life. I have run all this way to warn you. Oh, go back, while there is yet time!".
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