She bent back her head, like Genevieve in the ballad, to look me in the face, her eyes filled with tears--crystal, happy drops, which dimmed not their brightness. But her face was pale, with a pensive pallor like that of the _Gloire de Dijon_ rose; only now excitement had suffused her cheeks with the tints of that same rose--that red so unlike the bloom on other faces in vanished days; so tender and delicate and precious above all tints in nature! "I know," she spoke, "how you were grieving for me, that you were pale and dejected. Oh, how strange you should love me so much!" "Strange, darling--that word again! It is the one sweetness and joy of life. And are you not glad to be loved?" "Oh, I cannot tell you how glad; but am I not here in your arms to show it? When I heard that you had gone to the wood I did not wait, but ran here as fast as I could. Do you remember that evening on the hill, when you vexed me with questions, and I could not understand your words? Now, when I love you so much more, I can understand them better. Tell me, have I not done as you wished, and given myself to you, body and soul? How thirty days have changed you! Oh, Smith, do you love me so much?" "I love you so much, dear, that if you were to die, there would be no more pleasure in life for me, and I should prefer to lie near you underground. All day long I am thinking of you, and when I sleep you are in all ray dreams." She still continued gazing into my face, those happy tears still shining in her eyes, listening to my words; but alas! on that sweet, beautiful face, so full of changeful expression, there was not the expression I sought, and no sign of that maidenly shame which gave to Genevieve in the ballad such an exquisite grace in her lover's eyes. "I also had dreams of you," she answered. "They came to me after Edra had told me how pale and sad you had grown." "Tell me one of your dreams, darling." "I dreamed that I was lying awake on my bed, with the moon shining on me; I was cold, and crying bitterly because I had been left so long alone. All at once I saw you standing at my side in the moonlight. 'Poor Yoletta,' you said, 'your tears have chilled you like winter rain.' Then you kissed them dry, and when you had put your arms about me, I drew your face against my bosom, and rested warm and happy in your love."