"'Cassandra Somers! now tell her,' he whispered, turning me gently
from him, with a hand precisely like Ben's."
"No, it is handsomer," I muttered.
"Before me was a space of sea. Before I crossed I wanted to hear that
wild music; but your voice broke my dream."
She sat up and unbuttoned her sleeve. _As I live_, there was a red
mark on her arm above her elbow!
I crushed my hands together and set my teeth, for I would have kissed
the mark and washed it with my tears. But Verry must not be agitated
now. She divined my feelings for the first time in her life. "I have
indeed been in a long sleep, as far _you_ are concerned; this means
something. My blindness is removed by a dream. Do you despise me?" Two
large, limpid tears dropped down her smooth cheeks without ruffling
the expression of her face.
"I have prided myself upon my delicacy of feeling. You may have
remarked that I considered myself your superior?"
"You are all wrong. I have no delicate feelings at all; they are as
coarse and fibrous as the husk of a cocoanut. Do for heaven's sake get
up and let me dress you."
She burst into laughter. "Bring me some water, then."
I brought her a bowl full, and stood near her with a towel; but
she splashed it over me, and dribbled her hands in it till I was in
despair. I took it away and wiped her face, which looked at me so
childly, so elfish, so willful, and so tenderly, that I took it
between my hands and kissed it. I pulled her up to a chair, for she
was growing willful every moment; but she must be humored. I combed
her hair, put on her shoes and stockings, and in short dressed her.
Father came up and begged me to hurry, as everybody had come. I sent
him for Ben, who came with a pale, happy face and shining eyes. She
looked at him seriously. "I like you best," she said.
"It _is_ time you said that. Oh, Verry! how lovely you are!"
"I feel so."
"Come, come," urged father.
"I do not want these gloves," she said, dropping them.
Ben slipped on the third finger of her left hand a plain ring. She
kissed it, and he looked as if about to be translated.
"Forever, Verry?"
"Forever."
"Wait a moment," I said, "I want a collar," giving a glance into the
glass. What a starved, thin, haggard face I saw, with its border of
pale hair! Whose were those wide, pitiful, robbed eyes?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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