“Don’t do that,” he said, pushing her hand away. “Why not?” she cried, laughing. “Are you frightened of me?” And caressingly she passed her hand over his ears again. “Oh, you don’t know what pain that gives me.” He sprang up, and to her astonishment Bertha saw that he was pale and trembling. “I feel I shall go mad when you touch me.” Suddenly she saw the burning passion in his eyes; it was love that made him tremble. Bertha gave a little cry, and a curious sensation pressed her heart. Then without warning, the boy seized her hands and falling on his knees before her, kissed them repeatedly. His hot breath made Bertha tremble too, and the kisses burnt themselves into her flesh. She snatched her hands away. “I’ve wanted to do that so long,” he whispered. She was too deeply moved to answer, but stood looking at him. “You must be mad, Gerald.” She pretended to laugh. “Bertha!” They stood very close together; he was about to put his arms round her. And for an instant she had an insane desire to let him do what he would, to let him kiss her lips as he had kissed her hands; and she wanted to kiss his mouth, and the curly hair, and his cheeks soft as a girl’s. But she recovered herself. “Oh, it’s absurd! Don’t be silly, Gerald.” He could not speak; he looked at her, his green eyes sparkling with desire. “I love you.” “My dear boy, do you want me to succeed your mother’s maid?” “Oh!” he gave a groan and turned red. “I’m glad you’re staying on. You’ll be able to see Edward, who’s coming to town. You’ve never met my husband, have you?” His lips twitched, and he seemed to struggle to compose himself. Then he threw himself on a chair and buried his face in his hands. He seemed so little, so young--and he loved her. Bertha looked at him for a moment, and tears came to her eyes. She called herself brutal, and put her hand on his shoulder. “Gerald!” He did not look up. “Gerald, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m sorry for what I said.” She bent down and drew his hands away from his face. “Are you cross with me?” he asked, almost tearfully. “No,” she answered, caressingly. “But you mustn’t be silly, dearest. You know I’m old enough to be your mother.” He did not seem consoled, and she felt still that she had been horrid. She took his face between her hands and kissed his lips. And, as if he were a little child, she kissed away the tear-drops that shone in his eyes. Chapter XXX