Hideaway Strath look at the fire and think of me

mona smirked to herself as she heard nathaniel's trudge and commentary in the snow behind her. presently, her footsteps brought to mind something a woman had once told her, about walking as a lady would. suddenly scandalized at her puppyish trot and childlike gaiety, mona immediately slowed her pace to more sedate steps, mincing through the cold powder of newfall. 
the feeling brought with it a quick rush of relief; her shifting gait was certain to make her seem her actual age, rather than a prattling child, but unbeknownst to mona, it had the added effect of swaying her hips. naively unaware of her faux pas, the yearling mayfair traveled for several yards before a glint of red caught her eye.
"oh, look, mister rochester!" mona gasped, eyes widening as she halted in her steps. "cairdinéal," came her whisper then, one of the few gaelic words she'd retained from the little of her history taught to her. the girl's face tilted toward nathaniel to see his reaction, eyes alight with a pure joy at the brilliant scarlet worn by the small avian.