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She tells him of it, and he is deeply interested; and when she proposes to write and get him one from her native soil, he is glad as a schoolboy promised a new bat, and her conquest of Sir Nicholas is complete. 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. Just now it is blowing softly, delicately, as though its fury of the night before had been an hallucination of the brain. It is "a sweet and passionate wooer," says Longfellow, and lays siege to "the blushing leaf." There are no leaves for it to kiss to-day: so it bestows its caresses upon Mona as she wanders forth, close guarded by her two stanch hounds that follow at her heels..
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"It is an early hour to be astir," he says, awkwardly; then, finding she makes no response, he goes on, still more awkwardly. "Can you tell me if this path will lead me to the road for Plumston?" "Yet I think you should have told me," she whispers, as a last fading censure. "Do you know you have made me very unhappy?" "A week? I should be dead when you came back," declares Mrs. Geoffrey, with some vehemence, and a glance that shows she can dissolve into tears at a moment's notice. Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels,.
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