The cold seems hardly to touch Mona, so wrapped she is in the beauties of the night. There is at times a solemn indefinable pleasure in the thought that we are awake whilst all the world sleepeth; that we alone are thinking, feeling, holding high communion with our own hearts and our God.,
"I suppose she is a Roman Catholic," says Sir Nicholas musingly.,
"Where can Mona be?" says Doatie, suddenly..
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