nearness to her should stop my heart and breath.

Yet, all day long her face and slim shape haunted me — a certain sullen sweetness of the lips, too — and I remembered the lithe grace of her little hands as she broke the morsels of that midnight meal and lifted the cup of chilly water in which I saw the star-light dancing. And “Lord!” thought I, amazed at my own folly. “What madness lies in these midsummer solitudes, that I should harbor such fantastic thoughts?”

Seldom, as yet, had dream of woman vexed me — and when I dreamed at all it was but a tinselled figment that I saw — the echo, doubtless, of some tale I read concerning raven hair and rosy lips, and of a vague but wondrous fairness adorned most suitably in silks and jewels.