"I wish you wouldn't
call yourself Low," she said at last.
"But it's my name," he replied quietly.
"Nonsense! It's only a stupid translation of a stupid nickname. They
might as well call you 'Water' at once."
"But you said you liked it."
"Well, so I do. But don't you see--I--oh dear! you don't understand."
Low did not reply, but turned his head with resigned gravity towards
the deeper woods. Grasping the barrel of his rifle with his left hand,
he threw his right arm across his left wrist and leaned slightly upon
it with the habitual ease of a Western hunter--doubly picturesque m his
own lithe, youthful symmetry. Miss Nellie looked at him from under her
eyelids, and then half defiantly raised her head and her dark lashes.
Gradually an almost magical change came over her features; her eyes
grew larger and more and more yearning, until they seemed to draw and
absorb in their liquid depths the figure of the young man before her;
her cold face broke into an ecstasy of light and color; her humid lips
parted in a bright, welcoming smile, until, with an irresistible
impulse, she arose, and throwing back her head stretched towards him
two hands full of vague and trembling passion.
Pages:
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203