For great ideas are as catching as evil ones.

A Mexican, with the iron hand of Old Spain upon him and the shadow of the Inquisition over him, could not look into the face of an American, and not feel the thought of Freedom stirring in his heart.
It stirred in her own heart.

She stood still a moment to feel consciously the glow and the enlargement.

Then with an impulse natural, but neither analyzed nor understood, she lifted her prayer-book, and began to recite "the rising prayer." She had not said to herself, "from the love of Freedom to the love of God, it is but a step," but she experienced the emotion and felt all the joy of an adoration, simple and unquestioned, springing as naturally from the soul as the wild flower from the prairie.
As she knelt, up rose the sun, and flooded her white figure and her fair unbound hair with the radiance of the early morning.

The matin bells chimed from the convent and the churches, and the singing birds began to flutter their bright wings, and praise God also, "in their Latin." She took her breakfast alone.