the next day I went to Rosing, and he was shocked by my wild ways, and thought me a gipsy!"
"And so you are, my darling Lina," he declared, kissing her, "you ran barefoot in the garden yesterday, and now you have no bonnet, and your hair's in elflocks, and your hands are almost sunburned!"
Sometimes, as the weather grew warmer, they wandered at night in the forest, where the crystalline purity of the moonlight cast an ethereal light upon the stems and boles of hoary ancient trees.
"What a scene for a ballet, Guy!"
"Yes, but you shan't dance, not if I know it."
"You frighten me in this light, and in this setting. You're no better than a spirit—I'm afraid that you'11 vanish, and leave me for ever."
"How could I leave you? There's no spell on earth could make me do that!"
"All the same, I can't help remembering the poor fisherman in The Ondine."
"Oh, Guy!" and she was suddenly intensely serious; "you mustn't say things like that—really you mustn't."
"Why not? My beloved, my dove, I was only joking!"
"Then hold me close!"
He laughed. "I was wrong, Lina. No spirit could seem as warm as you are now, or as sweet, or as soft. You're no ghost; you're only my dear love, and I worship you with my body and with my soul."
"Listen," she whispered suddenly, clinging closer to him, "if we died to-night, both of us, or even one of us, we would all the same have a great deal to be grateful for, wouldn't we? Do you suppose any two people have ever been so happy before?"
"I've already forbidden you," he said, "to talk of such solemn things."