In due course the wonderful gown arrives, and is made welcome at the farm, where Geoffrey too puts in an appearance about two hours later.  
Mona is down at the gate waiting for him, evidently brimful of information.
 
"Well have you got it?" asks he, in a whisper. Mystery seems to encircle them and to make heavy the very air they breathe. In truth, I think it is the veil of that their small that makes it so sweet to them. They might be children, so delighted are they with the success of their scheme.
 
"Yes, I have got it," also in a whisper. "And, oh, Geoffrey, it is just too lovely! It's downright delicious; and satin, too! It must"—reproachfully—"have cost a great deal, and after all you told me about being poor! But," with a sudden change of tone, forgetting reproach and extravagance and everything, "it is exactly the color I love best, and what I have been dreaming of for years."
 
"Put it on you," says Geoffrey.
 
"What! now?" with some , yet plainly filled with an overwhelming desire to show herself to him without loss of time in the adorable gown. "If I should be seen! Well, never mind; I'll risk it. Go down to the little green in the wood, and I'll be with you before you can say Robinson."
 
She disappears, and Geoffrey, obedient to orders, lounges off to the green glade, that now no longer owns rich coloring, but is strewn with leaves from the gaunt trees that stand in solemn order like grave round it.
 
He might have Jack Robinson a score of times had he so wished, he might even have gone for a very respectable walk, before his eyes are again gladdened by a sight of Mona. Minutes had given place to minutes many times, when, at length, a figure wrapped in a long cloak and with a light woollen shawl covering her head comes quickly towards him across the bridge, and under the leafless trees to where he is .
 
Glancing round fearfully for a moment, as though desirous of making sure that no strange eyes are watching her movements, she lets the loose cloak fall to the ground, and, taking with careful haste the covering from her head, slips like Cinderella from her ordinary garments into all the glories of a fete gown. She steps a little to one side, and, throwing up her head with a faint touch of coquetry that sits very sweetly on her, glances at Geoffrey, as though conscious that she is looking as a dream.
 
The dress is composed of satin of that peculiarly pale blue that in some side-lights appears as white. It is opened at the throat, and has no sleeves to speak of. As though some fairy had indeed been at her beck and call, and had watched with careful eyes the cutting of the robe, it fits to a charm. Upon her head a little mob-cap, a very of blue satin and old lace, rests lovingly, making still softer the soft tender face beneath it.
 
There is a sparkle in Mona's eyes, a slight of her lips, that satisfaction and betray her full of very innocent of her own beauty. She stands well back, with her head held proudly up, and with her hands lightly clasped before her. Her attitude is full of unstudied grace.
 
Her eyes, as I tell you, are shining like twin stars. Her whole soul is of this hope, that he for whom almost she lives must think her good to look at. And good indeed she is, and very perfect; for in her earnest face lies such inward godliness and sweet trust as make one feel the better for only a bare glance at her.
 
Geoffrey is quite dumb, and stands gazing at her surprised at the amazing change a stuff, a color, can make in so short a time. Beautiful she always is in his sight, but he wonders that until now it never occurred to him what a sensation she is likely to create in the London world. When at last he does give way to speech, driven to break his curious silence by something in her face, he says nothing of the gown, but only this.
 
"Oh, Mona, will you always love me as you do now?"
 
His tone is full of sadness and , and something to fear. He has been much in the world, and has seen many of its evil ways, and this is the result of his knowledge. As he gazes on and wonders at her marvellous beauty, for an instant (a most unworthy instant) he distrusts her. Yet surely never was more groundless doubt sustained, as one might know to look upon her eyes and mouth, for in the one lies honest love, and in the other firmness.
 
Her face changes. He has made no mention of the treasured gown, has said no little word of praise.
 
"I have disappointed you," she says, tremulously, tears rising quickly. "I am a failure! I am not like the others."
 
"You are the most beautiful woman I ever saw in all my life," returns Rodney, with some passion.
 
"Then you are really pleased? I am just what you want me to be? Oh! how you frightened me!" says the girl, laying her hand upon............