Jenkins, the butler, proves himself a man of his word. There are, evidently, "no two ways" about Jenkins. "Seeking the that her grants" about ten o'clock to-night, after a somewhat breezy evening with her mother-in-law, Mona upon her hearthrug, blissfully, two huge hounds, that raise their sleepy tails and heads to welcome her, with the utmost , as she enters her room.
Spice and Allspice are having a real good time opposite her bedroom fire, and, though perhaps inwardly astonished at their from a distant to the sleeping-apartment of their fair mistress, are far too well-bred to betray any vulgar exaltation at the fact.
Indeed, it is probably a fear lest she shall deem them elated that causes them to hesitate before running to greet her with their usual demonstrative joy. Then politeness gets the better of pride, and, rising with a effort, they stretch themselves, yawn, and, going up to her, thrust their soft into her hands and look up at her with their great, liquid, loving eyes. They rub themselves against her skirts, and wag their tails, and give all other signs of and devotion.
Mona, stooping, them fondly. They are a part of her old life, and dear, therefore, to her own faithful heart. Having partly undressed, she sits down upon the hearthrug with them, and, with both their big heads upon her lap, sits staring into the fire, trying to while away with thought the hours that must elapse before Geoffrey can return to her again.
It is waiting. No sleep comes to her eyes; she barely moves; the dogs , and moan and start in their sleep, "fighting their battles o'er again," it may be, or anticipating future . Slowly, , the clock strikes twelve. Two hours have slipped into ; midnight is at hand!
At the sound of the twelfth stroke the hounds stir uneasily, and sigh, and, opening wide their huge , yawn again. Mona pats them : and, flinging some fresh logs upon the fire, goes back once more to her old position, with her chin in the palm of one hand, whilst the other rests on the head of Spice.
Castles within the fire grow grand and tall, and then into dust; castles in Mona's brain fare likewise. The shadows dance upon the walls; silently imperceptibly, the minutes flit away.
One o'clock chimes the tiny timepiece on the mantelshelf; outside the sound is repeated somewhere in the distance in graver, deeper tones.
Mona shivers. Getting up from her lowly position, she draws back the curtains of her window and looks out upon the night. It is brilliant with moonlight, clear as day, full of that hallowed softness, that peaceful , that belongs alone to night.
She is , and stands there for a minute or two spellbound by the glory of the scene before her. Then a desire to see her beloved lake from the great windows in the northern gallery takes possession of her. She will go and look at it, and afterwards creep on tiptoe to the library, seize the book she had been reading before dinner, and make her way back again to her room without any one being in the least the wiser. Anything will be better than sitting here any longer, dreaming day-dreams.
She to the dogs, and they, coming up to her, follow her out of the room and along the corridor outside their soft paws making no sound upon the polished floor. She has brought with her no lamp. Just now, indeed, it would be useless, such "a wide and tender light," does heaven's lamp fling upon floor and ceiling, chamber and corridor.
The whole of the long north gallery is flooded with its . The oriel window at its farther end is lighted up, and from it can be seen a picture, living, real, that resembles fairy-land.
Sinking into the cushioned embrasure of the window, Mona sits entranced, drinking in the beauty that is balm to her imaginative mind. The two dogs, with a heavy sigh, shake themselves, and then drop with a soft thud u............