A MOTHER'S EYES
The warm, soft twilight of a spring night filled the room. And all was still.
"Oh, I have waited for you so!" whispered the girl, flinging her arms round her lover's neck. "I was so afraid you would not come—that something might have happened…."
"And what could happen, and who could keep me from coming to you? But I could not come before—I don't know what it was made mother stay up so late to-night."
"Do you think she …" began the girl. But a passionate kiss closed her lips.
"If you only knew how I have been longing for you," said he. "All day I've been waiting for the evening to come. I've thought of nothing else since I first looked into your eyes—Gazelle!"
"Do you mean it, Olof?" She nestled closer to him as she spoke.
"And do you know what I was thinking as I walked behind the plough? I wanted you to be a tiny flower, to put in my breast, so I could see you all the time. Or a sweet apple I could keep in my pocket and fondle secretly—talk to you and play with you and no one ever to know."
"How prettily you talk, Olof!"
"If anyone had told me, I would never have believed love was like this. It's all so strange. Do you know, I want to…."