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"Why, they can't help it," explains he. "They are sent half the time." Geoffrey, who would be at any moment as polite to a dairymaid as to a duchess, follows her, and, much to her discomfort,—though she is too civil to say so,—helps her to lay the table. He even insists on filling a dish with the potatoes, and having severely burned his fingers, and having nobly suppressed all appearance of pain,—beyond the dropping of two or three of the esculent roots upon the ground,—brings them in triumph to the spot where Mona is sitting. "Away from me," returns he, with some emotion, tightening his clasp around her..
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"I should never be afraid of him," returns Mona. "He has kind eyes. He is"—slowly and meditatively—"very like you." "I do," returns she, tremulously. All the servants have received orders to go to bed, and on no account to sit up for Mr. Rodney, as he can let himself in in his own way,—a habit of his for many years. Doubtless, then, one of them had placed this lamp in the library with some refreshments for him, should he require them. "Where have you been, Mona?" he asks, quietly, gazing into the great honest liquid eyes raised so willingly to his own..
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