“I am very glad it pleases you so much; but do you know, Beatrice, I think you will have a different tale to tell in a week or two? You cannot realise, till you have tried it, how solitary and isolated we are, especially as the winter draws on. Very soon you will think it is a dreadfully lonely place—a sort of enchanted castle, as Randolph used to call it; and you will be pining to get back to the gay, busy whirl of life, that you have left behind.” Monica stopped short there struck by the strange look turned upon her by her companion. Beatrice’s face had grown grave and almost pale. A curious wistful sadness shone in her eyes; it almost seemed as if tears glistened on the long lashes. Her words were almost as enigmatical as her looks. She gazed at Monica for a moment speechlessly, and then softly murmured: “Et tu Brute!” END OF VOLUME II. PRINTED BY KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN’S INN FIELDS, AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES. Transcriber's Notes Minor punctuation and printer errors repaired. Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ End of Project Gutenberg's Monica, Volume 2 (of 3), by Evelyn Everett-Green