Mrs. Geoffrey

owly "but it puzzles me. I cannot be gay one mom

le; yet it has nothing to do with it: it is a mere peculiarity of temperament, and a rather merciful gift, for which we should be grateful, because, though we return again to our troubles, still the m

says Geof

closeness of his regard. "Many things affect me curiously," she goes

, through mere force o

es

," or "oh, nothing to signify," or "just when there is no

my singing very much. In Dublin they liked to hear me, when I was wi

have no

rtarlington for nearly three years, and when I came back from it I didn't care for Anastasia's friends, and found m

things you have ever said to me. How could I weary of your

myself alone, and I call it my den, because in it I keep everyt

to-day," says h

ll, if y

ll sing me

Are you fond

aring. I sing, you know, a little, which is my

l-that is correctly, and without false

y very well,-a charming tenor, you know, good enough to coax the birds off the bushes. He does all that sort of dilettante business,-paints, and reads tremendously about things dead and gone

open. "I am sure if I ever meet your broth

I knew that about him. Jack, my second brother, sings too. He is coming home from India dir

s older than you?" as

despicable of all t

, of course, and-and worldly people would not

y of the thing, Mr. Rodney would

? You are right. Younger sons, as a rule, are not run after. Mammas do not hanker after them, or gi

Mona, slowly and with indignation. "Has not Geo

re. He is shunted; handed on; if possible, scotched. The sun is not made for him, or the first waltz, or

she changes her note, and says, with a so

tlessness." (He is laughing too.) "Yet there have been instances," goes on Mr. Rodney, still smiling, while watc

says

ney," ex

ression of her face cannot be misunderstood: dejection betrays itself in ev

emn truth, yet conveying a lie: "I have not bee

ut afterwards I guessed it was your brothers' ground you were shooting over. And Bridget told me, too. She said you could not be well off, you had so many brothers. But I lik

e speaks quietly, but his heart is beating quic

. Rodney, like you?"

des to him as Mr. Rodney. Some inward feeling prevents him. Perhaps he understands instinctively that such knowledge will but wid

fellow. He is, besides, tall and rather lanky, with dark eyes a

th, so resolute, yet so tender, that his fair moustache only half conceals. The world in general acknowledges Mr. Rodney to be a well-looking young man of or

d very sweetly, lifting her eyes steadily to his. "She is

es Mr. Rodney even more than it pleases him. He presses the hand that rests upon his

vasively; "but she's rather rough on strangers. However, she

a looks

at length, gravely. "Where would the rest of

fect good faith that Mr.

w it," says he, "but you

says," returns

ld not have been more successful than she is with this small unpremeditated speech. Had a thun

gh he is prepared to drop her acqua

u?" he asks, haughtily. "Who is h

ith uplifted brows, stopping short in the midd

e, losing both his head and his temper completely

turns

will answer you. In our country, and in our class," with an amount of inborn pride impossible to

er back upon him contemptuous

glance, even more than her words, has covered him

could I speak to you as I did! I implore your pardon. Great sinner as I

om wrath of any kind. "As for Mr. Moore," with a curl of her short upper lip that it does him good to see, and a q

ughed out loud at this childish speech; but anxiety helps him to restrain his mirth. Nevertheless he fee

you?" is what he does sa

ys Miss Mona, with an exasper

t with her," as he himself would say, befor

e does. Tell me the truth about that

he question," says Mona, with a great show of virtuous indignation. "Beside

" persists he,

tly, "it is all too absurd. Why, if Mr. Moore were to ask me to marry

"again" with a strange sinking of the heart. Others, the

But Mona, who is very justly incensed

she says, with some scorn. "You seem to doubt every one's word; or is it m

of his expression-so amuses her that (laughter being as natural to her lips as perfume to

. "Why he has got nothing to recommend him except his money; and wha

ashamed to say-hopefully. "I should think they would easily pot him one of these dark night that are comin

shudder. "It isn't at all nice of you; and especially

against Ireland," says Rodney, cleve

ke it?" asks she,

ther day, and can hardly fancy anything more lovely than its pure wa

t Killarney, but only onc

re one puts off going. I knew a fellow once, and he lived all his time in London, and I

s so pleasant, and everything so-so like heaven. The lakes are delicious, so calm, so solitary, so full of thought. Lady Mary is ol

with corkscrew ringlets, patches, and hoops? She is qu

but I think I like her bett

offrey, in a tone

ut without placing the faintest emphasis upon the word "women

dge of Killarney myself

e enthusiast, brightening. "It is more tha

is, fearlessly, honestly, and w

d!" says Geoffre

igh. "But no matter: you will enjoy

hall," says Geoffr

beauty can be appreciated. Then, with its light waves sparkling beneath the gleam of the stars, and the moon throwing a path across it that seems to go on and on, until it reaches heaven, it is more satisfying

see it!" says Ge

re is a good moon come to me and I will go with you to Carr

p of a high mountain after nightfall. And in truth she does see nothing in it. If he wishes to see the bay she

for his kindliness and delicacy of feeling, as well as for his power of discerning character. He makes no well-turned speeches about the bay

" says Mona,

all door,-or what old Scully is pleased to call the front door in contradistinction to the back door, th

self," says Mona, hospitably, "while I ge

r all the many changes of thought that have passed through her brain on their return journey, her

, impulsively, as she di

e minute," returns she, in very fine Irish; and, with a part

pon him daily, hourly. Near Mona-when in her presence-a gladness that amounts almost to perfect happiness is his; apart from her is unrest. Love, although he is but just awakening to the fact, has laid his chubby hands upon

fter all, i

ss most

l, and a pres

born as Mona undoubtedly is, at least on her father's side. And, indeed, the little drop of blue blood

in the home circle is regarded as Geoffrey's "affinerty," and who last year was asked to Rodney Towers for the express purpose (though she knew it no

great eyes that seem too earnest for the fragile body to which they belong, is as naught before Mona, who

times affects, dreading perhaps lest he shall see too quickly into her tender heart), yet instinctively he knows that he is welcome i

she in secret

e masked it

ould of lightnes

ge, so uncertain, so undreamt of, is the dawning of a first great attachment. One looks upon the object that attracts, and finds the deepest joy in

more tenderly-than any other poet described the e

ound in the

n silence is, a

ible spirits t

rious instrum

e prelude o

hind his back, as his wont when deep in day-dreams, and asks himself many a question hitherto unthought of. Can he-shall

cellent thing in woman." "Don't be any time. Just give that

before ye'll know I'm gone." This from the agile Biddy, as (exhilarated wi

e of her many, loving ways, she leads him along the hall to a door opposite the kitchen. This she opens, and with conscious pride draw

eems replete with pleasurable memory,-seems part of its gentle mistress. There are two windows, small, and with diamond panes like the parlor, and in the far end is a piano. Th

l sing me something," s

reamily, letting her fingers run noiselessly over the key

e you?" return

etically, and with all her soul, as it should be sung. Then she gives him "London Bridge," and then "Rose-Marie," an

s no use in such a question. Nobody could teach it to you: you must feel it as you sing. And yet you are scarcel

ration; and you know poor mother was very unhappy at one time: therefore I am free. You

t rather puts me out in the cold. My mother seems to have had rather a

er husband," sa

of sight if I said 'boo.' But of course she's got over all that, and is as jolly as a sand-boy now

isplaced, as Lady Rodney thought her husband, if anything, an old bore, and three

found its way to this isolated spot, as he thinks of the shops in the pretty village n

at comes out, or anything they think wil

repeats he

aunty in Dublin I knew ever so many of

ays Mr. Rodney,

do occasionally, at Christmas, you know, and Easter and Midsummer, just to ask me how I am, and to tell me

ever have been laid at rest. "But they are favored friends. You can take presents from them, and yet the other day when I asked you if you would like a little gold chain to

ully-"not much. And, besides, a song is not like a gold chain; and you are quite different from them; and besides, again,"-growing slightly con

gs through the room, now glad with triumph, now sad with a "lovely melancholy," as the words and music sway her. Her voice is clear and pure and f

and the hour with its dying daylight, rises before him. The subdued light of the summer eve, the open window, the perfume of the drowsy flowers, the girl at the piano with her small drooping head and

was his mother's boudoir, the room she most affects, with its crimson and gray coloring and its artistic arrangements, that blend so harmonious

" asks Mona, softly, break

"I was comparing that singer very unfavorably with you. You

se. She accepts his w

unlike all the world? Yet what you say is true, no doubt. I s

frey, answering it from his heart

hat it ought to have betrayed to her his meaning.

to have fallen upon her happy hour. "When did you hear

w, with his hands clasped behind his back, and does

g at him the more earnestly in that he seems rapt in con

tately oaks and aged elms and branching beeches that

or a contradiction, and staring at her little brown hands, the fingers of which are twining an

, and its delicate Italian statuettes. In his own home-which is situated about fourteen miles from the Towers, and which is rather out of repair through years of disuse-there are many rooms. He

sadness in it. "How people come and go in one's lives, like the wave

nd-to break at your feet? to break one's hea

weariness of her own voice that frightens her, but at this moment her whole expression changes, and a laugh, forced but apparently full of gayety, comes from her lips. It is very well done i

, hearing only her careless laugh, and-man-like-ignoring stupid

ot be able to accomplish it. To forget o

eople say. But what on

a time, with some.

one of th

s him no

ys, at length, af

There is one thing

say," she says, nervo

of people dropping

you will, you must. Y

ld make

wing up her head with a charming gesture. "And, tal

raged, taking up his hat. He takes up her hand, too, and h

ebody has so cleverly expressed it, seem "rubbed into her head with a dirty finger," so marked lie the shadows beneath them, that enhance and heighten their beauty,-"by the by, you told me you had

this promise of hers, and, going to a desk, proceeds to o

n it is returned to its place, and Mona, opening the drawer next

ey, with genuine admiration. "And what is

astily, in an agony of fear, to judge by he

ises in his breast, and thrusts out all gentler feelings. Her allusion to Mr. Moore, most innocently s

, drawing her breath quickly. Her evident agitation incenses him to the

ch of heather, tied by a b

that selfsame grass; and she, poor child, had kept it ever since. She had treasured it, and laid it aside, apart from all other objects, among her mo

perhaps have said something betraying hi

l, "that is the bit of heather you gave me, and that is the grass that tied it. I kept it because it reminded me of a day when I was

ll recognition. Yet, even as she does so, the tears gather in her eyes, and, resting there unshed, transfigure her into a lovely picture tha

have done mischief enough." Her gesture is at once imperious and dignified. Then in a softer voi

he heart. He picks up the poor little bruis

little wounded Irish girl with her pride and her grief, than he has ever felt in the presence of an offended fashionable beauty full of airs and caprices. "Mo

frown. "And as for that heather," facing him again, with eyes shamed but wrathful, "I

doesn't dare so much as to think about it. Yet in his

her purpose," he says, quite solemnly, and in such a

ow holding it in a close grasp; and Mona, though a little frown still li

ly, driven to simplicity of language through his very mis

on such a trifling matter. It doesn't signify, not in the least. But-but," the blood mounting to her

ng," in a low tone, "if you could only know how vexed I am about the whole affair, and my unpardonable conduct! Yet, Mo

o her hand for the first time.

en," he pleads, earnes

almost in a whisper, with a seri

e moves towards the door; but before reaching it she

you again?" says

"Certainly not until Friday," she goes on, carelessly. (As this is Wednesday, his spirits once more ris

on," says Rodney, boldly, "will you ta

," says Mona, after

yety. Standing on the door-step he looks at her, and, as though impelled to ask t

re going into Kitty's cabin is the murd

l along," says G