"Where can Mona be?" says Doatie, suddenly.  
We must go back one hour. Lady Lilias Eaton has come and gone. It is now a quarter to five, and Violet is pouring out tea in the library.
 
"Yes; where is Mona?" says , looking up from the cup she has just given him.
 
"I expect I know more than most about her," says Nolly, who is enjoying himself immensely among the sponge, and the plum-cakes. "I told her the Æsthetic was likely to call this afternoon, and advised her strongly to make her escape while she could."
 
"She evidently took your advice," says Nicholas.
 
"Well, I went rather minutely into it, you know. I explained to her how Lady Lilias was probably going to discuss the new curfew-bell in all its bearings; and I hinted gloomily at the 'Domesday Book.' That fetched her. She vamoosed on the spot."
 
"Nothing makes me so hungry as Lady Lilias," says Doatie, comfortably. She is lying back in a huge arm-chair that is capable of holding three like her, and is bread and butter like a dainty but starved little fairy. Nicholas, sitting beside her, is holding her tea-cup, her own special tea-cup of Sèvres. "She is very trying, isn't she, Nicholas? What a dazzling skin she has!—the very whitest I ever saw."
 
"Well, that is in her favor, I really think," says Violet, in her most unprejudiced manner. "If she were to leave off her toilettes, and take to Elise or Worth like other people, and give up posing, and try to behave like a rational being, she might almost be called handsome."
 
No one seconds this rash opinion. There is a profound silence. Miss Mansergh looks mildly round for support, and, meeting Jack's eyes, stops there.
 
"Well, really, you know, yes. I think there is something special about her," he says, feeling himself in duty bound to say something.
 
"So there is; something awful," responds Nolly, . "She frightens me to death. She has an 'eye like a gimlet.' When I call to mind the day my father me into the library and sort of told me I couldn't do better than go in for Lilias, my knees give way beneath me and each other with fear. I to think what part in her mediæval programme would have been to me."
 
"You would have been her henchman,—is that right, Nicholas?—or her varlet," says Dorothy, with conviction, "And you would have had to stain your skin, and go round with a cross-bow, and with your mouth widened from ear to ear to give you the correct look. All æsthetic people have wide mouths, have they not, Nicholas?"
 
"Bless me, what an picture!" says Mr. Darling. "You make me regret all I have lost. But perhaps it is not yet too late. I say, Dolly, you are eating nothing. Have some more bread-and-butter or cake, old girl. You don't half take care of yourself."
 
"Well, do you know, I think I will take another bit of cake," says Doatie, totally unabashed. "And—cut it thick. After all, Noll, I don't believe Lilias would ever marry you, or any other man: she wouldn't know what to do with you."
 
"It is very good of you to say that," says Nolly, but gratefully. "It gives me great support. You honestly believe, then, that I may escape?"
 
"Just fancy the Æsthetic with a husband, and a baby on her knee."
 
"Like 'Loraine Loraine Loree,'" says Violet, laughing.
 
"Did she have both together on her knee?" asks Dorothy, . "She must have found it heavy."
 
"Oh, one at a time," says Nolly. "She couldn't do it all at once. Such a stretch of fancy requires thought."
 
At this moment, Geoffrey—who has been absent—saunters into the room, and, after a careless glance around, says, lightly, as if missing something,—
 
"Where is Mona?"
 
"Well, we thought you would know," says Lady Rodney, speaking for the first time.
 
"Yes. Where is she?" says Doatie: "that is just what we all want to know. She won't get any tea if she doesn't come presently, because Nolly is on finishing it. Nolly," with protest, "don't be greedy."
 
"We thought she was with you," says Captain Rodney, idly.
 
"She is out," says Lady Rodney, in a compressed tone.
 
"Is she? It is too late for her to be out," returns Geoffrey, thinking of the chill evening air.
 
"Quite too late," his mother, meaningly. "It is, to say the least of it, very strange, very unseemly. Out at this hour, and alone,—if, indeed, she is alone!"
 
Her tone is so unpleasant and so significant that silence falls upon the room. Geoffrey says nothing. Perhaps he alone among them fails to understand the meaning of her words. He seems lost in thought. So lost, that the others, watching him, wonder secretly what the end of his will bring : yet, one and all, they mistake him: no doubt of Mona ever has, or ever will, I think, cross his mind.
 
Lady Rodney regards him , trying to read his downcast face. Has the foolish boy at last been brought to see a flaw in his of clay?
 
Nicholas is looking angry. Jack, sinking into a chair near Violet, says, in a whisper, that "it is a beastly shame his mother cannot let Mona alone. She seems, by Jove! bent on turning Geoffrey against her."
 
"It is cruel," says Violet, with suppressed but ire.
 
"If—if you loved a fellow, would anything turn you against him?" asks he, suddenly, looking her full in the face.
 
And she answers,—
 
"Nothing. Not all the talking in the wide world," with a brilliant blush, but with steady earnest eyes.
 
Nolly, mistrustful of Geoffrey's silence, goes up to him, and, laying his hands upon his shoulders, says, quietly,—
 
"Mrs. Geoffrey is of making any mistake. How silent you are, old fellow!"
 
"Eh?" says Geoffrey, rousing himself and smiling . "A mistake? Oh, no. She never makes mistakes. I was thinking of something else. But she really ought to be in now, you know; she will catch her death of cold."
 
The utter want of suspicion in his tone drives Lady Rodney to open action. To do her justice, dislike to Mona has so her that she almost believes in the evil she seeks to about her.
 
"You are blind," she says, flushing hotly, and smoothing with nervous fingers an imaginary wrinkle from her gown. "Of course I explained matters as well as I could to Mitchell, but it was very awkward, and very unpleasant, and servants are never deceived."
 
"I hardly think I follow you," says Geoffrey, in a frozen tone. "In regard to what would you wish your servants deceived?"
 
"Of course it is quite the correct thing your taking it in this way," goes on his mother, refusing to be warned, and speaking with irritation,—"the only course left open; but it is rather absurd with me. We have all noticed your wife's extraordinary civility to that shocking young man. Such bad taste on her part, considering how he stands with regard to us, and the unfortunate circumstances connected with him. But no good ever comes of unequal marriages."
 
"Now, once for all, mother—" begins Nicholas, , but Geoffrey, with a gesture, silences him.
 
"I am content, more than content, with the match I have made," he says, ; "and if you are to Paul Rodney, I can only say I have noticed nothing in Mona's treatment of him."
 
"You are very much to be admired," says his mother, in an tone.
 
"I see no reason why she should not talk to any man she pleases. I know her well enough to trust her anywhere, and am deeply thankful for such knowledge. In fact," with some passion, sudden but , "I feel as though in discussing her in this cold-blooded fashion I am doing her some grievous wrong."
 
"It almost amounts to it," says Nicholas, with a frown.
 
"Besides, I do not understand what you mean," says Geoffrey, still regarding his mother with angry eyes "Why connect Mona's absence with Paul Rodney?"
 
"I shall tell you," exclaims she, in a higher tone, her pale-blue eyes flashing. "Two hours ago my own maid received a note from Paul Rodney's man directed to your wife. When she read it she dressed herself and went from this house in the direction of the wood. If you cannot draw your own conclusions from these two facts, you must be duller or more than I give you credit for."
 
She ceases, her work . The others in the room grow weak with fear, as they tell themselves that things are growing too dreadful to be borne much longer. When the silence is quite insupportable, poor little Dorothy struggles to the front.
 
"Dear Lady Rodney," she says, in a tremulous tone, "are you quite sure the note was from that—that man?"
 
"Quite sure," returns her future mother-in law, grimly. "I never speak, Dorothy, without foundation for what I say."
 
Dorothy, feeling snubbed, into silence and the shadow that envelopes the lounge on which she is sitting.
 
To the surprise of everybody, Geoffrey takes no open notice of his mother's speech. He does not give way to , nor does he open his lips on any subject. His face is innocent of anger, horror, or distrust. It changes, indeed, beneath the glow of the bur............