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

She has shaken hands with everybody, and has kissed Lady Rodney, and is now being introduced to Mona.

"Your wife, Geoffrey?" she says, holding Mona's hand all the time, and gazing at her intently. Then, as though something in Mrs. Geoffrey's beautiful face attracts her strangely, she lifts her face and presses her soft lips to Mona's cheek.

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 relations.

"I think somebody might introduce me," says a plaintive voice from the background, and Dorothy's brother, putting Dorothy a little to one side, holds 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. He has evidently forgotten that we are comparative strangers; but we sha'n't be long so, I hope?"

"I hope not, indeed," says Mona giving him her hand 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 Hewson, and after that I rather think he took it out of your bays, Nicholas."

"Well, I never met such a blab! I believe you'd peach on your grandmother," says her brother, with supreme 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 grat.i.tude for bringing Doatie here thirty minutes before we hoped for her."

"Now make him your best curtsey, Dolly," says Mr. Darling, seriously; "it isn't everyday you will get such a pretty speech as that."

"And see what we gained by our haste," says Dorothy, smiling at Mona.

"You can't think what a charming sight it was. Like an old legend or a fairy-tale. Was it a minuet you were dancing?"

"Oh, no; only a country dance," says Mona, blushing.

"Well, it was perfect: wasn't it, Violet?"

"I wish I could have seen it better," returns Violet, "but, you see, I was playing."

"I wish I could have seen it forever," says Mr. Darling, gallantly, addressing Mona; "but all good things have an end too soon. Do you remember some lines like these? they come to me just now:

When you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that."

"Yes, I recollect; they are from the 'Winter's Tale.' I think," says Mona, shyly; "but you say too much for me."

"Not half enough," says Mr. Darling, 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.

CHAPTER XXI.

HOW NOLLY HAVING MADE HIMSELF PRESENTABLE, TRIES ALSO TO MAKE HIMSELF AGREEABLE--AND HOW HE SUCCEEDS.

Mr. Darling is a flaxen-haired young gentleman of about four-and-twenty, with an open and ingenuous countenance, and a disposition cheerful to the last degree. He is positively beaming with youth and good spirits, and takes no pains whatever to suppress the latter; indeed, if so sweet-tempered a youth could be said to have a fault, it lies in his inability to hold his tongue. Talk he must, so talk he does,--anywhere and everywhere, and under all circ.u.mstances.

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's skirts a little to one side, and sinking on to the ottoman she has chosen as her own resting-place. "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. At such moments she falls again unconsciously into the "thens," and "sures," and "ohs!" and "ahs!" of her Ireland.

"Yes, I was indeed. Down in a small place cabled Castle-Connell, near Limerick. Nice people in Limerick, but a trifle flighty, don't you 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. "New Pallas, and all round Limerick, is so dreadfully disloyal."

"Well, that was just my luck, you see," says Darling "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 why the steward didn't get in the rents.

Perhaps he hoped the natives might pepper me; but, if so, it didn't come off. The natives, on the contrary, quite took to me, and adopted me on the spot. I was nearly as good as an original son of Erin in a week."

"But how did you manage to procure their good graces?"

"I expect they thought me beneath their notice, and, as they wouldn't hate me, they were forced to love me. Of course they treated the idea of paying up as a good joke, and spoke a great deal about a most unpleasant person called Griffith and his valuation, whatever that may be. So I saw it was of no use, and threw it up,--my mission, I mean. I had capital shooting, as far as partridges were concerned, but no one dreamed of wasting a bullet upon me. They positively declined to insert a bit of lead in my body. And, considering I expected some civility of the kind on going over, I felt somewhat disappointed, and decidedly cheap."

"We are not so altogether murderous as you seem to think," says Mona, half apologetically.

"Murderous! They are a delightful people, and the scenery is charming, you know, all round. The Shannon is positively lovely. But they wouldn't pay a farthing. And, 'pon my life, you know," says Mr. Darling, lightly, "I couldn't blame 'em. They were as 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, of course, but I couldn't help it; and, after all, I had a real good time in spite if everything, and enjoyed myself when 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 I were awful chums. We used to go shooting together every day, and got on capitally. He was a tremendously big fellow, could put me in his pocket, you know, and forget I was there until I reminded him. 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 by, the lower cla.s.ses, 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 Sir Nicholas to listen to it.

"What are you talking 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 watches." Then suddenly her whole face changes from gayety to extreme sorrow. "Alas! poor souls!" she says, mournfully, "they 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 are a fine race in spite of it. I'm going over again to see my friend Terry before very long. He is the most amusing fellow, downright brilliant. So is his hair, by the by,--the very richest crimson."

"But I hope you were not left to spend your days with Terry?" says Mona, smiling.

"No. All the county people round when they heard of me--which, according to my own mental calculations on the subject, must have been exactly five minutes after my arrival--quite adopted me. You are a very hospitable nation, Mrs. Rodney; n.o.body can deny that. Positively, the whole time I was in Limerick I could have dined three times every day had I so chosen."

"Bless me!" says Geoffrey; "what an appalling thought! it makes me feel faint."