Even with me she had not behaved precipitately.

My course of probation was severe and long before she allowed her heart to speak.
Pale from a sleepless night and her heart's weariful eagerness to be near me, she sat by my chair, holding my hand, and sometimes looking into my eyes to find the life reflecting hers as in a sunken well that has once been a spring.

My books and poor bachelor comforts caught her attention between-whiles.

We talked of the day of storm by the lake; we read the unsigned letter.

With her hand in mine I slept some minutes, and awoke grasping it, doubting and terrified, so great a wave of life lifted me up.
'No! you are not gone,' I sighed.
'Only come,' said she.
The nature of the step she had taken began to dawn on me.
'But when they miss you at the palace?
Prince Ernest ?' 'Hush! they have missed me already.