heart throbbed the faster and he felt the tips of his body turn cold and then flushed, but his heart beat higher still and with fresher hopes.
"Good morning," he saluted.
"O Good morning," she replied in the sweetest way. She was again carrying her pitcher.
How sweet and gentle was her voice! Ah such a voice! The beam of her eyes lighted up with kindness and beauty, and her lips bloomed with a smile, while the sun seemed to make a golden halo around her black silken hair.
"How are you today?" in a sulky tone.
"Very well."
"I hope I will not be bothering you." He paused for words. "May I know what your decision was?" He talked slowly, in a low pleading accent.
"I—I have not come to any decision—I—I cannot answer you, but I came here solely because I do not want to keep you waiting for me, that is all."
She was smiling, but her bosom heaved with deep emotions.
"Why not, dear loved soul? O why keep me in suspense, and in immense sorrows and afflictions! See—listen—look at my worn-out self... I cannot bear the sight of it... Your coldness is making me sick—driving me mad. O a word or anything from you will suffice, ay, something of your kindness enough and to spare!... But, remember, I do not want to force an answer from your lips, no, not at all: I want
