He seemed to remonstrate in dumb
show; but she, with an attitude of silence, signified her wish to seal
the conversation, and he drooped again. On the door step she paused a
moment, and hung her head pensively, as if moved by a reminiscence. The
youth had hurried away some strides. Margarita looked after him. His
arms were straightened to his flanks, his hands clenched, and straining
out from the wrist. He had the aspect of one tugging against the
restraint of a chain that suddenly let out link by link to his whole
force.
'Farina!' she called; and wound him back with a run. 'Farina! You do
not think me ungrateful? I could not tell my father in the crowd what
you did for me. He shall know. He will thank you. He does not
understand you now, Farina. He will. Look not so sorrowful. So much I
would say to you.'
So much was rushing on her mind, that her maidenly heart became unruly,
and warned her to beware.
The youth stood as if listening to a nightingale of the old woods, after
the first sweet stress of her voice was in his ear. When she ceased, he
gazed into her eyes. They were no longer deep and calm like forest
lakes; the tender-glowing blue quivered, as with a spark of the young
girl's soul, in the beams of the moon then rising.
'Oh, Margarita!' said the youth, in tones that sank to sighs: 'what am I
to win your thanks, though it were my life for such a boon!'
He took her hand, and she did not withdraw it.
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