Terre Haute Weekly Gazette, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 20 July 1882 — Page 2

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THURSDAY, JULY 20, 1882.

NONA SGOLLf

Continued From First Pago.

es, tne one wicn tne

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reatn-

gr," returns Mona, quickly, and with a gin ile radiant and grateful, that sinks into Violet's heart and rests there. "You told the duke .who you were?" breaks in Lady Rodney at this moment, who is in one of her worst moods. "Yes I said I was Mrs. Kodney." "Mrs. Geoffrey Kodney, would have been more correct. You forget your husband is the youngest son. When Captain Kodney marries, his wife will be Airs. llodney. "Hut surely until then Mona may lay claim to the title," says Violet quickly. "I do not wish to lay claim to anything," says Mona, throwing up her bead with a little, proud ge$lur?,—"least of all to what docs not by-right belong to me. To be Mrs. Geoffrey is all I &slc

She leans back in her chair, and brings her lingers together, clasping them so closely that her very nails urow white. Iler thin nostrils dilate a little, and her breath comes quickly, but no angry word escapes her. Ilow can her hps give utterance to a speech that may wound the mother of the man she loves?

Violet, watching her, notes the tumult in her mind, and seeing bow her will gains mastery over her desire, honors her for her self-control.

Then .Tack comes in. and Sir Nicholas, and later on Geoffrey. "No one can say we are not in time," aays Jack, gayly. "It is exactly"—examining closely the ormolu-clock upon the mantel-piece—"one hour before

we can

reasonably expect dinner." thereby "And three-quarters. Don't deceive

can

ry for her.

iv all'come quite nati don't remember ever being taught them.

,llyt?^

The music seeded to inspire me, and I[aod

a 4 A 1 iv A in 1

sation, and who is plainly suppressing a strong desire to laugh. "Do you remember the evening yon taught me the country dance that I said was like an old-fashioned minuet? And what an apt pupil I proved! I really think I could dance it now. By the bye, my mother never saw one danced.— Sho"— apologetically "has not been out much. Let us go through one now for her benefit."

x*\

"Yes, let us." snys Motto. gayly. "Pray do not give yourselves so much trouble on my account," says Lady Rodney, with intense but subdued indignation. "It won't trouble us, not a bit" says Mrs. Geoffrey, rising with alacrity. "I shall love it, the iloor is so nice and slippery. Can any one whittle?"

At this Sir Nicholas gives way and laughs out loud, whereon Mona laughs too, though she reddens slightly, and says. "Well, of course, the piano will do, though the fiddle is best or all." "Violet, plav us something," says Geoffrey, who has quite entered into the spirit of the thing, and who doesn't mind his mother's "horrors" in the least, but remembers liow sweet Mona used to look when going Slowly and with that quaint solemn dignity of hers "through her steps." "I shall be charmed," says Violet: "but what is a country dance? Will ^r Roger' do?" "No. Play anything monotonous, that is slow and dignified besides, and it will answer in fact, anything at all," says Geoffrey, largely, at which Violet smiles and seats herself at the piano. "Well, just wait till I tuck up the tail of my gown," says Mrs. Geoffrey, airily flinging her pale blue skirt over her white bare krm. "You may as well call it a train people like it better," says Geoffrey. "I'm sure I don't know why, btft perhaps \t sounds better." "There can scarely be any question About that," says Lady Rodney, unwillmg to let any occasion pass that may

Mrmit a slap at Mona. "Yet the Prints calls ^er train a 'tail,'* says Violet, turning jat her piano-stool to make this remark, which is balm to Moua's soul after which she once more concentrates her thoughts on the instrument before her, aad plavs some odd old-fashioned air that suits well the dance of which they .have been speaking.

Then Geoffrey offers Mona his hand, asd leads her to the center of the poliahoH floor--. There thnv salute each

ocner in a rarner uranoisoman iasaioii, and then separate. The light from the great pine fire streams over all the room, throwing a rich glow upon the scene, .upon the girl's flushed and earnest face, and large nappy eyes, and graceful rounded figure, net raying also the grace and poetry of her every movement.

She stands well back from Geoffrey, and then, without any of the foolish, unlovely bashfulness that degenerates so often into awkwardness in tne young, begins her dance.

It is a very curious and obsolete, if singularly charming, performance, full of strange bows and unexpected turnings, and courtesies dignified and deep.

As she advances and retreats, with her svelte figure drawn to its fullest height, and her face eager and intent upon the business in hand, and with her whole heart thrown apparently into the successful accomplishment of her task, she is looking far lovelier than she herself is at all aware.

Even Lady Rodney for the moment has fallen a. prey to her unpremeditated charms, and is leaning forward anxiously watching her. Jack and Sir Nicholas are enchanted.

The shadows close them in on every side. Only the fire-light illumines the room, casting its most brilliant and ruddy rays upon its central figures, until they look. like beings conjured up from the olden times, as they flit to and fro in the slow mysterious mazes of the dance.

Mona's naked arms gleam like snow in the uncertain light. Each movement of hers is full of grace and verve. Her entire action is grace.

The music, soft and almost mournful, echoes through the room the feet keep time upon the oaken lluor weird-like the two forms move through the settled gloom.

The door at the farthest end of the room has been opened, and two people who are as yet invisible stand upon the threshold too surprised to advance, too enthralled, indeed, by the sight before them to wish to do so.

yourself, my dear fellow they can't be dare to show themselves. here one moment before a quarter to "Oh. how pretty!" cries one of them eight." from the shadow, as though grieved the "'Then, in the meantime, Violet, I dance has como so quickly to an end.—

shall cat you," says Captain Kodney, amiably, "just to take the edge off mv appetite. You would be hardly sufficient for a good meal!" lie laughs and glances significantly at her slight but charming figure, which is peWc but perfect, and then sinks into a low chair near her. "I hear this dance at the Chetwoodes' is to be rather a large affair," says Geoffrev, indifferently. "I met Gore to-day, and he fciys the duchess is going, and half tlie county." "You dance, of -course," says Lady Rodney, turning to Mona. "Oh, yes," says Mona, brightening even under this small touch of friendliness. "I'm verv fond of it, too. I can get throngh all the steps without a mistake."

At this extraordinary speech Lady Rodney stares in bewilderment

'Ah, waltzes and polkas you mean?" one can see her more nuzzled tone. rs. Geoffrey.

she savs, in a puzzled tone. "EhV" says "You

waltz?"

"Oh, no!" shaking her lovely head emphatically, with a smile. "Jt's country dances l'mean. Up the middle and dow hand though music that is ringing in her braiu. Then, sweetlyl -"Did you ever dance a country dancer" "Never!" says Lady Rodney, in 'a «tony fashion. "I don't even know what you moan." "No?" arching her brows, and look ing really sorry They all come quite naturally

Only as Mrs. Geoffrey makes her final courtesy, and Geoffrey, with a laugh, stoops iorward to kiss her lips instead of her hand, as acknowledgment of her earnest and very sweet performance, declaring the same to have

come

to a timely end. do the new-comers

llow lovely!" At this voice every one starts! Mona, slipping her hand into Geoffrey's, draws him to ono side Lady Kodney rises from her sofa, and Sir Nicholas goes towards the door.

You have come!" cries he, in a tone Mona has never heard before, and then —there is no mistake about the fact that he and the shadow have embraced each other heartily. "Yes, we have indeed," says the same sweet voice again, which is tne merriest and softest voice imaginable, "and in very good time too, as it seems. Nolly and I have been here for fully five minutes, and have been so delighted with* what we have seen that we positively could not stir. Dear Lady Rodney, how d've do?"

She is a very little girl, quite half a head shorter than Mona, and, now that

changes of her face. Her hair is cut

Sta

et perhaps it is a degree darker than ordinary hair we near

goes out.

ty

fSsStlls

it is a hair we near described as

yellow. Such is Nicholas's betrothed, to whom as she gazes on her, all at once, in the first Utile moment, Mona's whole soul

caught them. She has shaken hands with everybody

khi8ed

really dance them very well. l)on^ I, being introduced to Mona. GeoffV" "iour wife, Geoffrey?" she says. "I never saw your equal," says Geof- holding Mona's hand all the time, and frey, who. with Sir Nicholas has been I

ga

listening to the last half of the conver- Something in Mrs. Geoffrey's beautiful

j^y Rodney, and is now

aing at her intently. Then, as though

Mitp

eiia

ccki

plainly as she

stands on the hearth-rug, something more than commonly pretty. Jler eyes are large and blue, with a shade ot green in them her lips are soft and mobile her whole expression is do-bon-naire. vet full of tenderness. She is

Ha.—

face attracts her strangely, she lifts her face and presses her soft lips to Mona's

A rush of hope and gladness thrills Mona's bosom at this gentle touch. It is the very first caress she has ever received from one of Geoffrey's friends or relatives. "I think somebody might introduce me," savs a plaintive voice from the background, and Dorothy's brother, nutting Dorothy a little to one side, liolds out his hand to Mona. "How d'ye do. Mrs. Rodney?" he says, pleasantly. "There's a dearth of etiquette about your husband that no doubt you have discovered before this. lie has evidently forgotten that we are comparative strangers but we shan't be long so, I hope." "I hope not, indeed," says Mona, giving him her band with a very flattering haste. "You have come quite half an hour earlier than we expected you," says Sir Nicholas, looking with fond satisfaction into Miss Darling's eyes. "These trains are very uncertain." "It wasn't the train so much," says Doatie, with a.merry laugh, "as Nolly we weren't any time coming^ because he got out and took the reins from Ile.wson. and after that I rather think he took it out of your bays, Nicholas." "Well, I never mot with such a blab! I believe you'd peach on your grandmother," says lier brother, with supremo contempt. "I didn't do 'em a bit of harm, Rodney, I give you my word." "I'll take it," says Nicholas, "but, even if you did, I should still owe you a debt of gratitude for bringing Doatie here thirty minutes before we hoped for her." "Now make him your best courtesv, Dolly," says Mr. Darling, seriously "it isn't every day you will get suoh a pretas that." our ona.

And see what we gained haste," says Dorothy, smiling at ft "You can think what a charming •sight it was. Like an old legend or fairytale. Was it a minuet yon were dancing?" "Oh, no only a country dance," says Mona, blushing. "Well, it was perfect wasnt it, Violet?" "I wish I could have seen it better," says Violet, "but, you see, I was playing." "I wish I could have seen it forever," savs Mr. Darling, gallantly, addressing Muiuv^ ")ut all eoyd t4hinsts have an

CHAPTER XEX.

Mr. Darling is a flaxen-haired young gentleman of about four-and-twenty, with an open and ingenious countenance, and a disposition to talk, so talk he does,—anywhere and everywhere, and under all circumstances.

THE TERRE HAUTE WEEKLY GAZETTE.

soon, uo you rememuer some

lines like these? they come to me just now. 'When you lo dance, I wish you

A wave o'er the wa, that you might ever do Nothing but that.' "4 "Yes, I recollect they are from the 'Winter's Tale,'I think," says Mona, shvly "but you sav too much for me." ot half enough," s$ys Mr. Parling, enthusiastically. "Don't you think, sir, you would like to get ready for dinner?" says Geoffrey, with mock severity. "You can continue your attentions to my wife later on,—at your peril." "I accept the risk," says Nolly, with much stateliness, and forthwith retires to make himself presentable.

He succeeds in taking Mona down to dinner, and shows himself particularly devoted through all the time they spend in the dining-room, and follows her afterwards to the drawing-room as soon as decency will permit. He has, in fact, fallen a hopeless victim to Mona's charms, and feels no shame in the thought that all the world must notice his subjugation. On the contrary, he seems to glory in it. "I was in your country the other day," he says, pushing Mona skirts a little to one side, and sinking on to the ottoman she lias chosen as uer own restingplace. "And a very nice country it is." "Ah! were you really there!" says Mona, growing at once bright and .excited at the bare mention of her native land.

Yes, I was indeed. Down in a small place called Castle-Connell, near Limerick. Nice people iu Limerick, but a tritle flighty, don't vou think? Fond of the merry blunderbuss, and all that, and with a decided tendency towards midnight maraudings." "I am afraid you went to almost the worst part of Ireland," says Mona, shaking her head. "Now Pallas, and all round Limerick, is so dreadfully disloyal." "Well, that was just my luck, you know. We have some property there. And, as I am not of much account at home, 'my awful dad' sent me over to Ireland to see wliv the steward didn't get in the rents. The fact is the people were poor as poor could be, regular out-at-elbows, you know, and I suppose they sadly wanted any money they had. I told the governor so when I came back, but I don't think, he seemed to see it sort of said he wanted it too, and then went on to make some ugly and most uncalled for remarks about my tailor's bill, which of course I treated with the contempt they deserved." "Well, but it was a little hard on your father, wasn't it?" says Mona, gently. "Oh, it wasn't much," says the young man, easily "and he needn't have cut up so rough about it. I was a failure, or course, but I couldn't help it and, after all, I had a real good time in spite of everything, and enjoyed myself wnen there down to the ground." "I am glad of that," says Mona, nicely, as he pauses merely through a desire for breath, not from a desire for silence. "I had, really. There was one fellow, a perfect giant,—Terry O'Flynn was his name,—and he and 1 were awful chums. We used to go shooting together every day, and got on capitally. He was a farmer's son, and a very respectable sort of man. I gave him my watch when I was coming away, and he was quite pleased. They don't have much watches, by the bye, the lower classes, do they?"

At this Mona breaks into a sweet but ringing laugh, that makes Lady Rodney (who is growing sleepy, and, therefore, irritable) turn, and fix upon her a cold, reproving glance.

Geoffrey, too, raises his head and smiles, in sympathy with his wife's burst of merriment, as does Miss Darling, who stops her conversation with SirNicholas to listen to it"What are you tatking about?" asks Geoffrey, joining Mona and her companion. "How could I help laughing," says Mona. "Mr. Darling has just expressed surprise at the fact that the Irish peasantry do not as a rule possess watcnes."

Then suddenly her whole face changes from gayetv to extreme sorrow. "Alas! poor souls'/' she says, mournfully, "they i!"

don't, as a rule, have even meat "Well, I noticed that, too. There did seem to be a great scarcity of that raw material," answers Darling, lightly.— Yet they area tine race, in spite or it. I am going over again to see my friend Terry before very long. He is the most amusing fellow, downright brilliant. Yes, I think the happiest days I knew over there were spent with Terry. It was rather a sell, though, having no real adventure, particularly as I had promised one not only to myself but to my friends when starting for Paddyland. I beg your pardon a thousand times! Ireland, I mean." "I don't mind," says Mona. We are Paddies, of course." "I wish I was one!" says Mr. Darling, with considerable effusion. "I envy the people who can claim nationality with you. I'd be a Paddy myself tomorrow if I could, for that one reason." "What a funny boy you are," says Mona, with a little laugh. "So they all tell me. And of course what every one says is true. We're bound to lie friends, aren't vfe?" rattles on Darling, pleasantly. "Our mutual love for Erin should be a bond between us." "I hope we shall be I am sure we shall," returns Mona, quickly. It is ssible iri this alien land. yours is!—Nolly." "Well, I wasn't exactly born so," explains Mr. Darling, frankly "Oliver is my name. I rather fancy my own name, do yoa know it is uncommon, at all events. One dont hear it called round every corner, and it reminds one ot

niidii. leturns sweet to her to find a possible friend in What a strange name

that

'bold, bad man,' the Protector. But they shouldn't have left out the Cromwell. That would have been a finishing stroke. To hear one's self innounced as Oliver Cromwell Darling in a public roota would have been aa good as' a staall fortune." "Better," says Mona, laughing gayly. "Yes, really, you know. I'm in earnest," declares Mr. Darling, laughing too. Hte is quite delighted with Mona. To find his path through Mfe strewn with people who will laugh with him, or even at him, is his idea of perfect bliss. So he chatters on to her until, haH.liour nnminn nnd pandlpa Koino

m»i4.-w &$***

if J, *r I. 2^

Sr

rorcea into nonce, ne is at ien obliged to tear himself away from and follow the men into the smokingroom.

Here he lays his hands on Geoffrey. "By Jove, you know, you've about done it," he says, bestowing upon Geoffrey's shoulder a friendly pat that rather takes the breath out or that young man's body. "Gave you credit for more common sense. Why, such a proceeding as this is downright folly. You are bound to pay for your fun, you know, sooner or later." "Sir," says Mr. Kodney, taking no notice of thiar preamble, "I shall trouble you to explain what you mean by reducing an inoffensive shoulder-blade to powder." "13eg pardon, I'm sure," says Nolly, absently. "But"—with sudden interest —"do you know what you have done? l'ou have married the prettiest, woman in England." "I haven't," says Geoffrey. "You have." says Nolly. "I tell you I have not," says Geoffrey. "Nothing of the sort. You are woolgathering." "Good gracious! he can't mean that he is tired of her already," exclaims Mr. Darling, in an audible aside. "That would be too much even for our times."

At this Geoffrey gives way to mirth, lie and Darling are virtually alone, as Nicholas and Captain Rodney are talking earnestly about the impending lawsuit in a distant corner. "Mv dear fellow, you have overworked your brain he says, ironically. "You don't understand me. I am not tired of her. I shall never cease to bless the day I saw her,"—this with great earnestness—"but you say I have married the handsomest woman in England, and she is not English at all." "Oh, well, what's the odds?" says Nollv. "Whether she is French, or English, Irish or German, she has just the loveliest face I ever saw, and the sweetest ways. You've done an awfully dangerous thing. You will be Mrs. Rodney's husband in no time,—nothing else, and you positively won't know Yourself in a year after. Individuality lost. Name gone. Nothing left but vour four bones. You will be quite thankful for them, even, after a bit." "You terrify me," says Geoffrey, with a grimace. "You think, then, that Mona is pretty? I'm tremendously glad you like her." "Don't!" says Darling, weakly.— "Don't put it in that light. It's too feeble. If you said I was madly in love with your wife you would be nearer the mark, as insanity touches on it. I haven't felt so badly in years. It is right down unlucky for me, this meeting with Mrs. Rodney." "Poor Mona!" says Geoffrey "don't tell her about it, as remorse may sadden her." ,r "Look here," says Mr. Darling, "just try one of these, do. They, are South American cigarcttes, and nearly as strong as the real thing, and quite better tney are a new brand. ,Xry 'em1 they'll quite set you up." "Give me one, Nolly," says Sir Nicholas, rousing from his reverie.

CHAPTER XX.

It i3 the day of Lady Chetwoode's ball. All day long the rain has been pouring down. The laurels do nothing but drip, drip, in a sad aside, "making mournful music for the mind."

To Mona, this dance is hardly .pure nectar. It is half a terror, half a joy. She is nervous, frightened, and a little strange. Nobody seems in a very merry mood. Even "Nolly, who is generally game for anvthing, is a prey to despair, lie has, for Ihe last hour, lost sight of Mona. "Let us do something, anything, to get rid of some of these interminable hours," says Doatie, flinging ker book far from her. It is not interesting, a*d only helps to add insult to injury. She yawnb as much as breeding will permit, and then crosses her hands behind her dainty head. "Oh! here comes Mona. Mona, I am so bored that I shall die presently, unless you suggest some remedy." "Your brother is better at suggestions than I am," says Mona, gently, who is always somewnat subdued when in the room with Lady Rodney. "Nolly, do you beartthat? Come oyer to the fire directly and cease counting those-hateful rain-drops. Mona believes in yoii. Isn't that joyful news? Now get out of your moody fit at once, like a dear boy." 'I shan't," says Mr. Darting, in an aggrieved tone. "I feel slighted. Mrs. Rodney has of malice prepense secluded herselt from public gaze at least for an hour. I can't forget all that in one moment." "Where have you been?" asks Lady Rodney, slowly, turning her head to look at Mona. "Out-of-doors?" Her tone is unpleasant. "No. In my own room," says Mona. "Oh, Nolly! do think of some plan to cheat the afternoon of an hour or two," persists Doatie, eagerly. "I have it," says her brother, with all the air of one who has discovered anew continent. "Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs."

At this Doatie turns her back on him, while Mona breaks into a peal of silvery laughter. "Would you not like to do that?" demands Nolly, sadly. "I should. I'm quite in the humor tor it." "I am afraid we are not," says Violet, smiling too. "Think of something else." "Well, if vou all will insist upon a change, and desire something more lively, then,— 'For heaven"3 snke, let us Mt upon the ground.

And tell sad stories of the death of kings.' Perhaps after all you are right, and that will be better. It will be rather effective, too, if uncomfortable, our all sitting on the polished floor." "Fancy Nolly quoting Shakspeare," says Geoffrey, who has just entered, and is now leaning over Mona's chair. He stoops and whispers something in her ear that makes her flush and glance appetiliriglv 'at Doatie. Whereon Miss Darling, who is quick to sympathize, rises, ami soon learns what the whisper was about. k,Oh! liuvv charming!' she cries clapping her hands. "The yery thing! Why did we not think of it before? To teach Mona the last new srep! It will be delicious." Good-natured Doatie, as she says this. springs to her feet and, runs her hancf iritO Mona's. "Come," she says, "before to-night, I promise you, yotl shall rival Terpsichore herself." ^'Yes, «he Certainly must leafrn before to-night," says Violet, with sudden and unexpected interest, folding and putting away her work as thongh bent on other emp!uj*ment.»'ftLet us ©ocas into the ball-room." "DO vou know no other donees but it

,~t:

inose—er—vtjry lrisn ^tinormaneesr" asks Lady Rodnev, in a supercilious tone, alluding to the country dance Mona and Geoffrey had gone through on the night of Doatie's arrival. "No. I have never been to a ball in all my life," says Mona, distinctly. But she pales a little at the note of contempt in the other's voice. Unconsciously she moves a few steps nearer to Geoffrey, and holds out her hand to him in a childish, entreating fashion.

He clasps it and presses it lightly but fondly to nis lips. .His. brow darkens^ The little stern expression, so seldom seen upon his kindly face, but which is inherited from his father, creeps up now and altera him perceptibly. "You mistake mv mother," he says to Mona. in a peculiar tone, looking at Lady Rodney, not at her. "My wife is, I am sure, the hist person she would choose to be rude to though, I confess, her manner just now would mislead most people.'

Witn the frown still on his forehead, he draws Mona's hand through his arm, and leads her from the room.

Lady Rodney has turned pale. Otherwise she betrays no chagrin, though in her heart she "feels deeply the relnike administered by.this, her favorite son. Tp have Mona be a witness of her defeat is gall and wormwood to her. And silently, without any ouHvard gesture, she registers a vow to be revenged for the insult (as she deems it) that has just been put upon her.

Dorothy Darling, who has been listening anxiously to all that lifw passed, and who is very grieved thereat, now speaks boldly. "I am afraid," she says to Lady Rodney, quite calmly, having a little way of her own of introducing questionable topics without giving offense,—"I am $fraid you do not like Mona."

At this Lady Rodney flings down her guard and her work at tlie same time, and rises to her feet. "Like her!" she says, with suppressed vehemence. "How should I like a woman who has stolen from me my son, and who can teach him to bo rude even to his own mother." "Oh, Lady Kodney, I am sure she did not mean to do that." "I don't care what she meant sho has at all evonts done it. Like her! A person who speaks of 'Jack Robinson,' and talks of tho 'long and the short of it.' How could you imagine such a thing!— As for you, Dorothy. I can only feel regret that you should so far forget yourself as to rush into friendship with a young woman so thoroughly out of your own sphere."

Having delivered herself of this speech, she sweeps from the room, leaving Dorothy ana Violet slightly nonplussed. "Well, I never heard anything so abBurd!" says Doatie, presently, recovering her breath, and opening her big eyes to their widest. "Such a tirade, and all for nothing. If saying 'Jack Robinson' is asocial crime, I must be the biggest sinner living, as I say it just when I like. I think Mona adorable, and so does every cue else. Don't you think Ladv Rodneyiis unjust to Mona?" "Yes, 1 think she is. But of course there are many excuses to be made for her. An Irish girl of no family whatever, no matter how sweet, is not the sort of person ono would select as a wife for one's son. Come to the ballroom. I want to make Mona perfect in dancing." "You want to make her A success tonight," says Dorothy, quickly. "I know you do. You area dear thing, Violet, if a little difficult. And I verily believe you have fallen as great a victim to the charms of this Irish siren 'without family' as any or us. Come, confess it." "There is nothing to confess. I think her very much to be liked, if you mean that," says Violet, slowly. "She is a perfect pet," says Miss Darling, with emphasis, "and you know it."

They adjourn to the ball-room, where dancing soon becomes universal. Jack take3 Mona in hand, as being the best dancer present, and teaches, tutors and encourages her until Doatie cries "enough," protesting she is not going to be cut out by Mona, at all events in the dancing line.

The day w,ears to evening, the rain Ceases, and by and by the stars come out, fiirat slpwly, ono oy

9119,

1

until ^11 it

•'Bespatirlcl with those ialos of light 80 wildly, spiritually bright," shows promise of a fairer morrow.,

Mona, coming slowly down stairs, enters with lagging steps the library, where tea is awaiting them before they

Sho is gowned in a cream-colored satin that hangs in severe straight lines and clings to her lissome rounded figure as dew clings to a flower. A few rows of tiny pearls clasp her neck. Upon her bosom some Christmas roses, pure and white as her own soul, lie softly a few more nestle in her hair, which is drawn simply back and coiled in a loose knot behind her head she wears no ear-rings and very few bracelets.

One of the latter, however, is worthy of note. It is a plain gold band on which stands out a figure of Atalanta posed as when she started for her famous race. It had been sent to her on her marriage by Maxwell, in hearty remembrance, no doubt, of the night when she by her fleetness had saved his life.

She is

looking

As she enters the room, nearly every one stops talking, and, careless of good breeding, stares at her.^.,. There is a touch of purity about Mona that is perhaps one of her chiefest charms.

Even Lady Rodney can hardly take her eyes from the girl's face as she advances beneath the full glare of the chandelier, utterly unconscious of the extent of the beauty that is her rich gift.

Sir Nicholas, going up to her, takes her by both hands, and leads her gently beneath the huge bunch of misletoe that still hangs from the centre-lamp. Here, stooping, he embraces her warmly.— Mona, coloring, shrinks involuntarily a few steps backward. "Forgive me, my sister," says Nicho-

Jlat

ulckly. "Not the kiss, but the until now I never quite understood how very beautiful you are."

las,

Then the carriages are announced, and every one finishes his and her tea, and many shawls are caught up, and presently all are driying rapidly ^be-

Now, strange as it may seem, the very moment Mona sets her foot upon the polished ball-room floor, and sees the lights, and hears the music, and the distant splashing of water in some unknown spot, and breathes the breath of dying flowers, all fears, all doubts, vanish and only a passionate desire to dance, and be in onison with the sweet sounds tbat move the air, overfills her.

Thftn samo nog

4

ps^s

kct

-i

•witn ner Tace lit up wirn

uippy excitement, and her heart throbbing—she is actually mingling with the crowd that a moment since she has k'ying. dancers they glide, Mona so happy that

py beei een env\ I11 and out among the

sho barely has time for thought, and so gives herself up entirely to the music to the exclusion of her partner.

After a little while, pausing beside a doorway, sho casts an upward glhuce at her companion. "I am glad you have at last deigned to take some notice of me5" says he, with a faint touch of pique his tone. And then, looking at him again, she sees it is the young man who had nearly ridden over her some time ago, and tells herself she has been just a little rude to his Grace the Duke of Lauderdale. "And I went to. the utmost trouble to get nil introdtictidn goes on Lauderdale in an aggrieved voice "beJ»use I thought yon might not care about that impromptu ceremony at the lodge/ates and yet what do I receive for iny pains bet disappointment? Have you quite forgotten me?" "No.

Of course I remember you

now," says Mona, taking all this nonsense as quite bona fide sense, in a maddeningly, fascinating fashion. "How unkind I have been! But I was listening to the music, not to our introduction, when Sir Nicholas brought you up to me, and—and tbat is my only excuse." Then, sweetly, "Do you love music?" "Yes, I do," says the duke. "But I say that perhaps as a means of defense. If I said otherwise, you might think mo fit only 'for treasons, stratagems, and spoils. "Oh, no! you don't look like that," sr^ysMona, with a heavenly smile. You do not seem like a man that could not bti 'trusted.'"

He is delighted with her ready response, her gayety, her sweetness, her freshjiesd was there ever so fair a face? Every one in the room by this time is asking who is the duke's partner, and Lady Chetwoode is beset with queries. All the women, except a very few, are consumed with jealousy all the men are devoured with envy of the duke. Beyond all doubt the pretty Irish bride is the rage of the hour. "Malcolm, who was that lovely creature you were talking to just now?" asks his mother, as Lauderdale draws near her. "That? Oh. that was the bride, Mrs. Rodney," replies he. "She is lovely, if you like." "Oh, indeed!" says the duchess, with some faint surprise. Then she turns to Lady Rodney, who is near her, and who is looking cold and supercilious. "I congratulate you," she says, warmly. "What a face that child has! How charming! How full of feeling! You are fortunate in securing so fair a daughter." "Thank you," says Lady Rodney, coldly, letting her lids fall over her eyes. "I am sorry I have missed her so often," says tne duchess. "But you will introduce me to her soon, I hope."

Just at this moment Mona comes up to them, smiling and happy. "Ah! here she is," says the duchess, looking at the girl's bright face with much interest, and turning graciously towards Mona. And then nothing remains but for Lady Rodney to get through the introduction as calmly as site can, though it is sor?ly against will, and tlis duchoia, takiiu" z:v hand,' bays something vwy pretty to her, while the duke looks on with ill-dis-guised admiration in his face. "You must givo me another dance, Mrs. Roilnev, before your card is quite

full." says the' duke, deed. I am in time."

If.

smiling. in­

"Yes, quite in time," says Mona. Then she pauses, looking at him so earnestly that he is compelled to return her gaze. "You shall have another dance," sho says, in her clear voice, that is per-

fectly distinct to every one "but you Mr 6V.»' dead silence follows. Lady Rodney

feoti. rtUs^not call roe Mrs. Rodney, only

ly Mrs. Geoffrey.*'

F-,

very beautiful to-night.

her todtllice a"'*

7 /. ti

.. -i''v t, 4

I am

raises her head, scenting mischief in the air. "No?" says Lauderdale, laughing. "But why, then? There is no other Mrs. Rodney, is there?" "No. But there will be when Captain Rodney marries. And Lady Rodney says I have no claim to tho name at all. I am only Mrs. Geoffrey."

She says it all quite simply, with a smile. There is not a touch of malice in her soft eyes or on her parted lips.

The duchess, with a grave expression, looks at Lady Rodney. Can her old friend have proved herself unkind to tliib prettv stranger? Can she have already shown symptoms of that tyrannical temper which, according to the duchess, is Lady Rodney's cluef bane? She says nothing, however, but moving her fan with a beckoning gesture, draws her skirts aside, and motions to Mona to seat herself beside be»*.

[The rttoaini&g chapters of this romnnce will be found in the Saturday isuces of the Gazettk. Back numbers can be obtained at th:soffice.!

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