"Impossible!" drawing back from him. "How could I be ready? and, besides, I have said I will not marry you until a year goes by. How can I break my word?"
"That word should never have been said. It is better broken."
"Oh, no."
"Very well. I shall not ask you to break it. But I shall stay on here. And if," says this artful young man, in a purposely doleful tone, "anything should happen, it will——"
"Don't say it! don't!" cries Mona, in an agony, stopping his mouth with her hand. "Do not! Yes, I give in. I will go with you. I will marry you any time you like, the sooner the better,"—feverishly; "anything to save your life!"
This is hardly complimentary, but Geoffrey passes it over.
"This day week, then," he says, having heard, and taken to heart the wisdom of, the old maxim about striking while the iron is hot.
"Very well," says Mona, who is pale and thoughtful.
And then old Brian comes in, and Geoffrey opens out to him this newly-devized plan; and after a while the old farmer, with tears in his eyes, and a strange quiver in his voice that cuts through Mona's heart, gives his consent to it, and murmurs a blessing on this hasty marriage that is to deprive him of all he best loves on earth.
And so they are married, and last words are spoken, and adieux said, and sad tears fall, and for many days her own land knows Mona no more.