CHAPTER XXVIII.

HOW THE TOWERS WAKE INTO LIFE-AND HOW MONA SHOWS THE LIBRARY TO PAUL RODNEY.

LIGHTS are blazing, fiddles are sounding-all the world is abroad to-night. Even still, though the ball at the Towers has been opened long since by Mona and the Duke of Lauderdale, the flickering light of carriagelamps is making the roads bright, by casting tiny rays upon the frosted ground.

The fourth dance has come to an end; cards are full; everyone is settling down to work in earnest ; already the first touch of satisfaction, or carefullysuppressed disappointment, is making itself felt.

Mona, who has again been dancing with the Duke, stopping near where the Duchess is sitting, the latter beckons her to her side by a slight wave of her fan. To the Duchessa thing of beauty is a joy for ever,' and to gaze on Mona's lovely face, and admire her tranquil but brilliant smile, gives her a strange pleasure.

'Come, and sit by me. You can spare me a few minutes,' she says, drawing her ample skirts to one side. Mona, taking her hand from Lauderdale's arm, drops into the proffered seat beside his mother, much to that young man's chagrin, who having inherited the maternal hankering after that 'delightful prejudice,' as Theocritus terms beauty, is decidedly épris with Mrs. Geoffrey, and takes it badly being done out of his têteà-tête with her.

Mrs Rodney would perhaps prefer to dance, mother,' he says with some irritation.

'Mrs. Rodney will not mind wasting a quarter of an hour on an old woman,' says the Duchess equably.

'I am not so sure of that,' says Mona with admirable tact and an exquisite smile, but I shouldn't mind spending an hour with you.'

Lauderdale makes a little face, and tells himself secretly 'all women are liars;' but the Duchess is very pleased, and bends her friendliest glance upon the pretty creature at her side, who possesses that greatest of all charms, inability to notice the ravages of time.

Perhaps another reason for Mona's having found such favour in the eyes of the biggest woman in our shire, sir,' lies in the fact that she is in many ways so totally unlike all the other young women with whom the Duchess is in the habit of associating. She is naïve to an extraordinary degree, and says and does things that might appear outré in those of others, but are so much a part of Mona that it neither startles nor offends one when she gives way to them.

Just now, for example, a pause occurring in the conversation, Mona fastening her eyes on her Grace's neck says, with genuine admiration :

'What a lovely necklace you are wearing!'

To make personal remarks we all know is essentially vulgar, is indeed a breach of the commonest show of good-breeding, yet somehow Mrs. Geoffrey's tone does not touch on vulgarity, does not even belong to the outermost skirts of ill-breeding. She has an inborn gentleness of her own, that carries her safely over all social difficulties.

The Duchess is amused.

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It is pretty, I think,' she says; the Duke,' with a grave look, 'gave it to me just two years after my son was born.'

Did he?' says Mona. Geoffrey gave me these pearls,' pointing to a pretty string round her own white neck, a month after we were married. It seems quite a long time ago now,' with a sigh and a little smile.

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'But your opals are perfect. Just like moonlight. By-the-by,' as if it has suddenly occurred to her, did you ever see the lake by moonlight? I mean from the mullioned window in the north gallery?'

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"The lake here? No,' says the Duchess. Haven't you?' in surprise. enchanting thing in the world. you will be delighted with it. will show it to you,' says Mona seat in her impulsive fashion.

Why, it is the most Oh! you must see it, Come with me, and I eagerly, rising from her

She is plainly very much in earnest, and has fixed ner large expressive eyes-lovely as loving-with calm expectancy upon the Duchess. She has altogether forgotten she is a duchess (perhaps, indeed, has never quite grasped the fact), and that she is an imposing and portly person not accustomed to exercise of any descrip

tion.

For a moment her Grace hesitates, then is lost. It is to her a new sensation to be taken about by a young woman to see things. Up to this it has been she who has taken the young women about to see things. But Mona is so openly and genuinely anxious to bestow a favour upon her, to do her in fact a good turn, that she is subdued, sweetened, nay, almost flattered by this artless desire to please her for 'love's sake' alone.

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She too rises, lays her hand on Mona's arm, and walks through the long room, and past the county generally to see the lake by moonlight.' Yet it is not for the sake of gazing upon almost unrivalled scenery she goes, but to please this Irish girl, whom so very few can resist.

"Where has Mona taken the Duchess?' asks Lady Rodney of Sir Nicholas half an hour later.

'She took her to see the lake; Mona, you know, raves about it, when the moon lights it up.'

'She is very absurd, and more troublesome and unpleasant than anybody I ever had in my house. Of course the Duchess did not want to see the water.

She

was talking to old Lord Dering about the drainage question, and seemed quite happy, when that girl interfered. Common courtesy compelled her, I suppose, to say yes to-Mona's-proposition.'

'I hardly think the Duchess is the sort of woman to say yes when she meant no,' says Nicholas with a half smile. 'She went because it so pleased her, and for no other reason. I begin to think indeed that Lilian Chetwoode is rather out of it, and that Mona is the first favourite at present. She has evidently taken the Duchess by storm.'

'Why not say the Duke too?' says his mother with a cold glance, to whom praise of Mona is anything but 'cakes and ale.' 'Her flirtation with him is very apparent. It is disgraceful. Everyone is noticing and talking about it. Geoffrey alone seems determined to see nothing! Like all underbred people she cannot know satisfaction unless perched upon the topmost rung of the ladder.'

'You are slightly nonsensical when on the subject of Mona,' says Sir Nicholas with a shrug. Intrigue and she could not exist in the same atmosphere. She is to Lauderdale what she is to everyone else-gay, bright, and utterly wanting in self-conceit. I cannot understand how it is that you alone refuse to acknowledge her charms. To me she is like a little soft sunbeam floating here and there, and falling into the hearts of those around her, carrying light, and joy, and laughter, and merry music with her as she goes.'

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You speak like a lover,' says Lady Rodney with an artificial laugh. Do you repeat all this to Dorothy? she must find it very interesting.'

'Dorothy and I are quite agreed about Mona,' replies he calmly. She likes her as much as I do. As to what you say about her encouraging Lauderdale's attentions, it is absurd. No such evil thought could enter her head.'

At this instant a soft ringing laugh, that once

heard is not easily forgotten, comes from an inner room, that is carefully curtained and delicately lighted, and smites upon their ears.

It is Mona's laugh. Raising their eyes, both mother and son turn their heads hastily (and quite involuntarily), and gaze upon the scene beyond. They are so situated that they can see into the curtained chamber and mark the picture it contains. The Duke is bending over Mona in a manner that might perhaps be termed by an outsider, slightly empressé, and Mona is looking up at him, and both are laughing gaily-Mona with all the freshness of unchecked youth, the Duke with such a thorough and wholesome sense of enjoyment as he has. not known for years.

Then Mona rises, and they both come to the entrance of the small room, and stand where Lady Rodney can overhear what they are saying.

Oh! so you can ride then,' says Lauderdale, alluding probably to the cause of his late merriment.

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'Sure of course,' says Mona. Why I used to ride the colts barebacked at home.'

Lady Rodney shudders.

'Sometimes I long again for a mad, wild galop straight across country, where nobody can see mesuch as I used to have,' goes on Mona half regretfully.

'And who allowed you to risk your life like that?' asks the Duke with simple amazement. His sister before she married was not permitted to cross the threshold without a guardian at her side. This girl is a revelation.

'No one,' says Mona. I had no need to ask permission for anything; I was free to do what I wished.'

She looks up at him again with some fire in her eyes and a flush upon her cheeks. Perhaps some of the natural lawlessness of her kindred is making her blood warm. So standing, however, she is the very embodiment of youth, and love, and sweetness, and so the Duke admits.