ney in his new role of husband and father, and so far as dress went
with all three, no observer would realize that they came from an
out-of-the-way island, where garb and deportment were unknown factors in
life.

But that evening at the opera, with all its attendant excitement of
richly gowned womankind whose decollete costumes and sparkling jewels
became a revelation to Mona, the handsome men, the exquisite music, the
wonderful singing, and the chief star, ablaze with diamonds, bowing and
smiling as wreaths and baskets of costly flowers were passed over the
footlights to her, wrought a spell upon Mona as nothing else could have
done. She was amazed, entranced, overwhelmed, intoxicated; and when the
seclusion of her own home was reached, the reflective heart-burst of
feeling came.

"Father," she whispered, her face aglow, when she was about to give him
the usual good-night kiss, "if I could stand before an audience, as that
singer did, and thrill them, as she did to-night, I would be willing to
lie down and die."

"That's a good speerit," he answered, smiling, his eyes a-twinkle; "but
if ye cud do it, ye'd a durn sight better feel ye'd like to live 'n'
keep on doin' it, 'n' make 'em pay ye good money, an' pass up flowers on
top o' that." Which sage observation perhaps best illustrates the
difference between a genius and a philosopher.

That night, sleep was slow in reaching Mona's pillow, and when it came
she dreamed that she was standing before a vast throng and suddenly,
impressed by the fear of them, sinking into unconsciousness.

CHAPTER XLII

THE ROAD TO THE TEMPLE

To Mona, reared beyond the world of wealth and social custom, the great
city she was now in seemed a monster hive. An endless tangle of crowded
streets, of pushing humanity, and towering buildings. The ceaseless din
of street cars and rumbling teams, the people who elbowed her aside as
they hurried on, the vehicles that halted not when she crosses a street,
the grand ladies alighting from their carriages and sweeping by her as
if she was without right; and worse than all these, the apes who ogled
at her on the street, and even followed her to her home,--each and all
became a teacher that taught her self-reliance. She grew to look at the
great city as it did at her, without feeling and without interest. They
cared not for her right, or her life even; why should she for them? It
was the best education possible, and imparted a certain indif