The full day dwelt on her brows and sunned
Her violet eyes, and all her Hebe bloom,
And doubled his own warmth against her lips,
And on the beauteous wave of such a breast
As never pencil drew. Half light, half shade,
She stood, a sight to make an old man young."
He repeated the lines as he stood watching her, and then he went nearer
and called:
"Madaline!"
Could he doubt that she loved him? Her fair face flushed deepest
crimson; but, instead of turning to him, she moved half coyly, half
shyly away.
"How quick you are," he said, "to seize every opportunity of evading
me! Do you think you can escape me, Madaline? Do you think my love is so
weak, so faint, so feeble, that it can be pushed aside lightly by your
will? Do you think that, if you tried to get to the other end of the
world, you could escape me?"
Half blushing, half laughing, trembling, yet with a happy light in her
blue eyes, she said:
"I think you are more terrible than any one I know."
"I am glad that you are growing frightened, and are willing to own that
you have a master--that is as it should be.
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