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"So glad you have come," says Lady Rodney, in a tone that belies her words, and in a sweet silvery voice that chills the heart of her listener. "We hardly thought we should see you so soon, the trains here are so unpunctual. I hope the carriage was in time?" "How long do you intend to banish yourself from civilized life?" "The only time I shed tears," says Mr. Darling, irrelevantly, "for many years, was when I heard of the old chap's death. And they were drops of rich content. Do you know I think unconsciously he impregnated her with her present notions; because he was as like an 'ancient Briton' himself before he died as if he had posed for it.".
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"I am glad you have been pleased to-night," says Mona, shyly, abashed by his studied silence. "But," nervously, "Killarney is even more beautiful. You must go there." "I suppose I am speaking to Mrs. Rodney," he says, guessing wildly, yet correctly as it turns out, having heard, as all the country has besides, that the bride is expected at the Towers during the week. He has never all this time removed his black eyes from the perfect face before him with its crimson headgear. He is as one fascinated, who cannot yet explain where the fascination lies. "Oh! at home, you know," says Mr. Rodney, quickly, discovering his mistake. For the moment he had forgotten his former declaration of poverty, or, at least, his consenting silence, when she had asked him about it. "My dear Oliver!" protests Lady Rodney, mildly..
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