Two o'clock! The song dies away, and Mona's brow contracts. So late!—the day is slipping from her, and as yet no word, no sign.,
"Yes, I know it now!" returns she, softly, yet with the gentle dignity that always belongs to her. Her lips quiver, but she draws herself up to her fullest height, and, throwing up her head, walks with a gait that is almost stately into the presence of the duchess.,
This is a thunderbolt. They all start guiltily, and regard Mona with wonder. What is she going to say next?.
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