baby!" and there was the most delicate, yet an utterly
indescribable sort of reproach in her voice and attitude,
as she spoke these words.

"Then it is not a baby by any means," and he looked with
undisguised admiration upon the maiden, with all the
mystic grace and perfect development of her young womanhood.
"It is a woman, a perfect little woman, a fairer a sweeter,
my own mignonette, than any girl ever seen in this part
of the plains since first appeared here human footprint."

"O, Monsieur is now gone to the other extreme. He is
talking dangerously; for he will make me vain."

"Does the ceaseless wooing of the sweet wild rose by soft
winds, make that blossom vain? or is the moon spoilt
because all the summer night ten thousand streams running
under it sing to it unnumbered praises? As easy, ma Marie,
to make vain the rose or the moon as to turn your head
by telling your perfections."

"Monsieur covers me with confusion!" and the little sweet
told the truth. But it was a confusion very exquisite to
her. It sang like entrancing music through her veins;
and gave her a delightful delirium about the temples,
flow fair all the glorious great round of the night, and
the broad earth lit by the moon, seemed to her now, with
the music of his words coursing through her being.
Everything was transfigured by a holy beauty, for Love
had sanctified it, and clothed it with his own mystic,