I have not given it to you yet. Some things are
better not said at all."
"They must be bad things," answered Beatrice, with an air of innocence.
She was beginning to understand, at last, that he really intended to
make her a declaration of love. It was unheard of, almost inconceivable.
But there he was at her feet, looking very handsome in the moonlight,
his face turned up to hers with an unmistakable look of devotion in its
rather grave lines. His voice, too, had a new sound in it. Indifferent
as he might be by daylight and in ordinary life, the magic of the place
and scene affected him a little at the present moment. Perhaps a memory
of other years, when his pulse had quickened and his voice had trembled
oddly, just touched his heart now and it responded with a faint thrill.
For a moment at least he forgot his sordid plan, and Beatrice's own
personal attraction was upon him.
And she was very lovely as she sat there, looking down at him, with
white folded hands, hatless in the warm night, her eyes full of the
dancing rays that trembled upon the softly rippling water.
"If they are not bad things," she said, speaking again, "why do you not
tell them to me?"
"You would laugh.
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