Zoe colored high,
suspecting they had seen the last of this ingenious young lady.
"What a good girl!" cried Severne.
"I am afraid she is a very naughty girl," said Zoe, faintly; and the
first effect of Fanny's retreat was to make her a great deal more
reserved and less sprightly.
Severne observed, and understood, and saw he must give her time. He was
so respectful, as well as tender, that, by degrees, she came out again,
and beamed with youth and happiness.
They strolled very slowly by the fair river, and the pretty little
nothings they said to each other began to be mere vehicles for those soft
tones and looks, in which love is made, far more than by the words
themselves.
When they started on this walk, Severne had no distinct nor serious views
on Zoe. But he had been playing with fire for some time, and so now he
got well burned.
Walking slowly by his side, and conscious of being wooed, whatever the
words might be, Zoe was lovelier than ever. Those lowered lashes, that
mantling cheek, those soft, tender murmurs, told him he was dear, and
thrilled his heart, though a cold one compared with hers.
He was in love; as much as he could be, and more than he had ever been
before.
Pages:
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136