"Is that an old man with two dogs that lives somewhere in the wood ?" And then, with sudden petulance: "And you ask me to talk to you!" "Oh, Rima, what can I say to you?
Listen--" "No, no," she exclaimed, quickly turning and putting her fingers on my mouth to stop my speech, while a sudden merry look shone in her eyes.
"You shall listen when I speak, and do all I say.

And tell me what to do to please you with your eyes--let me look in your eyes that are not blind." She turned her face more towards me and with head a little thrown back and inclined to one side, gazing now full into my eyes as I had wished her to do.

After a few moments she glanced away to the distant trees.
But I could see into those divine orbs, and knew that she was not looking at any particular object.

All the ever-varying expressions--inquisitive, petulant, troubled, shy, frolicsome had now vanished from the still face, and the look was inward and full of a strange, exquisite light, as if some new happiness or hope had touched her spirit.
Sinking my voice to a whisper, I said: "Tell me what you have seen in my eyes, Rima ?" She murmured in reply something melodious and inarticulate, then glanced at my face in a questioning way; but only for a moment, then her sweet eyes were again veiled under those drooping lashes.
"Listen, Rima," I said.

"Was that a humming-bird we saw a little while ago?
You are like that, now dark, a shadow in the shadow, seen for an instant, and then--gone, oh, little thing! And now in the sunshine standing still, how beautiful!--a thousand times more beautiful than the humming-bird.