She thought of that faint pressure of his hand as he said
farewell. The tender blush came back to her brown cheek once more
with maidenly shame as she told it all over. He was so handsome
and so nice, and so very, very kind, and, perhaps, after this, she
might never again meet him. Her bosom heaved. She was conscious
of a new sense just aroused within her.
Presently her heart began to beat more violently. She didn't know
why. It had never beaten in her life like that before--not even in
the tunnel, nor yet when Cyril came up to-day and spoke first to
her. Slowly, slowly, she rose from her seat. The fit was upon her.
Could this be a dream? Some strange impulse made her glide forward
and stand for a minute or two irresolute, in the middle of the room.
Then she turned round, once, twice, thrice, half unconsciously. She
turned round, wondering to herself all the while what this strange
thing could mean; faster, faster, faster, her heart within her
beating at each turn with more frantic haste and speed than ever.
For some minutes she turned, glowing with red shame, yet unable to
stop, and still more unable to say to herself why or wherefore.
At first that was all. She merely turned and panted.
Pages:
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86