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"Well but a murder at Oola isn't a murder here, you know," says Mr. Rodney, airily. "Let us wait to be melancholy until it comes home to ourselves,—which indeed, may be at any moment, your countrymen are of such a very playful disposition. Do you remember what a lively time we had of it the night we ran to Maxwell's assistance, and what an escape he had?" "Go back once more," said the young man, "and tell Three Bulls to send me that young woman." To her there is nothing strange or new, either in the hour or the place. Often does she come here in the moonlight with her faithful attendant and her two dogs, to sit and dream away a long sweet hour brimful of purest joy, whilst drinking in the plaintive charm that Nature as a rule flings over her choicest paintings..
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Paul, dropping on his knees before her, releases her gown; the fold is in his grasp, and still holding it he looks up at her, his face pale and almost haggard. "Do not call for assistance," he whispers, imploringly. "They can do me no good. Stay with me. Do not forsake me. Swear you will remain with me to—to the end." Mona, sitting down to the piano, plays a few chords in a slow, plaintive fashion, and then begins. Paul Rodney has come to the doorway, and is standing there gazing at her, though she knows it not. The ballroom is far distant, so far that the sound of the band does not break upon the silence of the room in which they are assembled. A hush falls upon the listeners as Mona's fresh, pathetic, tender voice rises into the air. "No, indeed," says Mona, laughing. "But it surely wasn't English, was it? That is not the way everybody talks, surely.".
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