one little ray of moonlight found its way into your prison for a wee moment, with Mary’s laugh and Mary’s snowy silk and flashing diamonds? Say!" and she patted my cheek, and smiled so bewilderingly, that even now, with all the dull horror of these after-events crowding upon me, I cannot but feel something like tears spring to my eyes at the thought of it.
"And so the Prince has come for you?" I whispered, alluding to a story I had told her the last time she had visited me; a story in which a girl, who had waited all her life in rags and degradation for the lordly knight who was to raise her from a hovel to a throne, died just as her one lover, an honest peasant-lad whom she had discarded in her pride, arrived at her door with the fortune he had spent all his days in amassing for her sake.
But at this she flushed, and drew back towards the door. "I don’t know; I am afraid not. I—I don’t think anything about that. Princes are not so easily won," she murmured.
"What! are you going?" I said, "and alone? Let me accompany you."
But she only shook her fairy head, and replied: "No, no; that would be spoiling the romance, indeed. I have come upon you like a sprite, and like a sprite I will go." And, flashing like the moonbeam she was, she glided out into the night, and floated away down the street.
When she next came, I observed a feverish excitement in her manner, which assured me, even plainer than the coy sweetness displayed in our last interview, that her heart had been touched by her lover’s attentions. Indeed, she hinted as much before she left, saying in a melancholy tone, when I had ended my story
