“‘“How pale your hand looks, Viola!” I said, as I let the hank fall, and took her hand with both of mine.
“‘“Yes, my hand is pale, I believe.”
“‘“You have a very small hand, too.”
“‘“Yes, I believe it is quite small; but we had better finish the work that Lottie gave us to do.”
“‘“No, let us talk a while; we’ll have plenty of time to do the work. I think this is quite a pretty little hand.”
“‘“Do you?”
“‘“Yes, indeed I do; and I think the owner of this hand is very pretty, too.”
“‘“I declare, we must finish this thread!”
“‘She then made a grab at the ball and missed it, and it went rolling to the other side of the room. She went after it,—two of the hanks had fallen to the floor—and in crossing the room her feet became entangled in the thread, so that when she picked up the ball and started back she tripped and fell plump into my arms. Of course I could do no less than catch her, else she would have fallen to the floor.
“‘“Dear Viola,” I exclaimed, “I love you with all my heart! Dare I hope that you ever will be mine? Speak, darling, I implore you! No man ever loved as I love you! Give me one little word of encouragement, I beseech you!”