"It is like a fairy-tale," says Violet, with unwonted excitement. "Oh, Mona, tell us how you managed it."
"Well, just after luncheon Letitia, your maid, brought me a note. I opened it. It was from Paul Rodney, asking me to meet him at three o'clock, as he had something of importance to say that concerned not me but those I loved. When he said that," says Mona, looking round upon them all with a large, soft, comprehensive glance, and a sweet smile, "I knew he meant you. So I went. I got into my coat and hat, and ran all the way to the spot he had appointed,—the big chestnut-tree near the millstream: you know it, Geoff, don't you?"
"Yes, I know it," says Geoffrey.
"He was there before me, and almost immediately he drew the will from his pocket, and said he would give it to me if—if—well, he gave it to me," says Mrs. Geoffrey, changing color as she remembers her merciful escape. "And he desired me to tell you, Nicholas, that he would never claim the title, as it was useless to him and it sits so sweetly on you. And then I clutched the will, and held it tightly, and ran all the way back with it, and—and that's all!"
She smiles again, and, with a sigh of rapture at her own success, turns to Geoffrey and presses her lips to his out of the very fulness of her heart.
"Why have you taken all this trouble about us?" says Lady Rodney, leaning forward to look at the girl anxiously, her voice low and trembling.
At this Mona, being a creature of impulse, grows once more pale and troubled.
"It was for you," she says, hanging her head. "I thought if I could do something to make you happier, you might learn to love me a little!"
"I have wronged you," says Lady Rodney, in a low tone, covering her face with her hands.
"Go to her," says Geoffrey, and Mona, slipping from his embrace, falls on her knees at his mother's feet. With one little frightened hand she tries to possess herself of the fingers that shield the elder woman's face.