She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. A woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. "I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle. She could not hide her face. I—I hurt myself. She gave her lips to his without resistance. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams.
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