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"Now, once for all, Mona," interrupts he, with determination, "I strictly forbid you ever to go to Ryan's cottage again." She is sad and depressed before she reaches the hall door, where she is unfortunate enough to find a carriage just arrived, well filled with occupants eager to obtain admission. "To ask the question is a rudeness," she says, steadily, though her heart is cold and hurt. "Yet I will answer you. In our country, and in our class," with an amount of inborn pride impossible to translate, "we do not marry a man because he is 'rich,' or in other words, sell ourselves for gold.".
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"No, it is of no use: it only wearies me. My best medicine, my only medicine, is here," returns Paul, feebly pressing Mona's hand. He is answering the doctor, but he does not look at him. As he speaks, his gaze is riveted upon Mona. "Why, what is the matter?" he says, seeing signs of the lively storm on all their faces. Doatie explains hurriedly. "No; I am quite warm," says Mona, in a low, sad tone. A passionate admiration for her beauty and purity fills his breast: he could have fallen at her feet and cried aloud to her to take pity upon him, to let some loving thought for him—even him too—enter and find fruitful soil within her heart..
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