“I am the happiest woman and the most unhappy in the world,” I said. “I wish I were in my bed alone and crying on my pillow;” and she squeezed my hand and ran back to her lovers.
My lord himself walked home with us. We left before the party broke up. At parting he placed in my hand a roll of paper.
“Remember,” I whispered; “you have promised.”
He made no answer, but stooped and kissed my fingers.
CHAPTER XIV.
HOW MY LORD MADE HIS CONFESSION.
It was not a long manuscript. I kissed the dear handwriting before I began.
“To the Queen of my Heart,” it began.
“Dearest Girl,—Since I first had the happiness of worshipping at your shrine I have learned from watching your movements, listening to your voice, and looking at your face, something of what that heavenly beauty must have been like which, we are told, captivated and drove mad the ancients, even by mere meditation and thought upon it.”
Did ever girl read more beautiful language?