There--now I am myself
again.'
They proceeded homeward at the same walking pace.
Her blitheness won Stephen out of his thoughtfulness, and each
forgot everything but the tone of the moment.
'What did you love me for?' she said, after a long musing look at
a flying bird.
'I don't know,' he replied idly.
'Oh yes, you do,' insisted Elfride.
'Perhaps, for your eyes.'
'What of them?--now, don't vex me by a light answer. What of my
eyes?'
'Oh, nothing to be mentioned. They are indifferently good.'
'Come, Stephen, I won't have that. What did you love me for?'
'It might have been for your mouth?'
'Well, what about my mouth?'
'I thought it was a passable mouth enough----'
'That's not very comforting.'
'With a pretty pout and sweet lips; but actually, nothing more
than what everybody has.'
'Don't make up things out of your head as you go on, there's a
dear Stephen. Now--what--did--you--love--me--for?'
'Perhaps, 'twas for your neck and hair; though I am not sure: or
for your idle blood, that did nothing but wander away from your
cheeks and back again; but I am not sure. Or your hands and arms,
that they eclipsed all other hands and arms; or your feet, that
they played about under your dress like little mice; or your
tongue, that it was of a dear delicate tone. But I am not
altogether sure.'
'Ah, that's pretty to say; but I don't care for your love, if it
made a mere flat picture of me in that way, and not being sure,
and such cold reasoning; but what you FELT I was, you know,
Stephen' (at this a stealthy laugh and frisky look into his face),
'when you said to yourself, "I'll certainly love that young
lady.
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