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Kneeling down by her, Dorothy lays her head upon Mona's knee, and bursts out crying afresh. It is a fern for which Mona has long been wishing. Oh! happy thought! She has expressed for it the keenest admiration. Oh! blissful remembrance! She has not one like it in all her collection. Oh! certainty full of rapture. "Not very," says Geoffrey. "It seems only just now that Mickey and the dogs left us." Together they examine his watch, by the light of the moon, and see that it is quite ten o'clock..
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Mere beauty of form and feature will fade indeed, but Mona's beauty lies not altogether in nose or eyes or mouth, but rather in her soul, which compels her face to express its lightest meaning. It is in her expression, which varies with each passing thought, changing from "grave to gay, from lively to severe," as the soul within speaks to it, that her chief charm dwells. She is never quite the same for two minutes running,—which is the surest safeguard against satiety. And as her soul is pure and clean, and her face is truly the index to her mind, all it betrays but endears her to and makes richer him who reads it. Soon the young woman came back and said to her husband, "It is a girl baby. You are to have another wife." "Now, that is good of you," she says, gratefully, and then, as he stoops to kiss her, she throws her arms around his neck and bursts into tears. "So I can," says Geoffrey. Then, not for any special reason, but because, through very love of her, he is always looking at her, he turns his eyes on Mona. She is standing by the table, with her head bent down..
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