Village books

The colour of her skin was so tender that
it reminded you vaguely of all beautiful soft things, the radiance of
sunset and the darkness of the night, the heart of roses and the depth of
running water. The goddess's hand was raised to her right shoulder, and
Margaret's hand was as small, as dainty, and as white.
'Don't be so foolish,' said she, as Arthur looked silently at the statue.
He turned his eyes slowly, and they rested upon her. She saw that they
were veiled with tears.
'What on earth's the matter?'
'I wish you weren't so beautiful,' he answered, awkwardly, as though he
could scarcely bring himself to say such foolish things. 'I'm so afraid
that something will happen to prevent us from being happy. It seems too
much to expect that I should enjoy such extraordinarily good luck.'
She had the imagination to see that it meant much for the practical man
so to express himself. Love of her drew him out of his character, and,
though he could not resist, he resented the effect it had on him. She
found nothing to reply, but she took his hand.


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