but not for long.

A moment later I am kneeling before her, pressing my burning face
against the fragrant muslin of her gown.

"But Severin--this isn't right," she cried.

But I take hold of her little foot, and press my lips upon it.

"You are getting worse and worse!" she cried. She tore herself free,
and fled rapidly toward the house, the while her adorable slipper
remained in my hand.

Is it an omen?

* * * * *

All day long I didn't dare to go near her. Toward evening as I was
sitting in my arbor her gay red head peered suddenly through the
greenery of her balcony. "Why don't you come up?" he called down
impatiently.

I ran upstairs, and at the top lost courage again. I knocked very
lightly. She didn't say come-in, but opened the door herself, and
stood on the threshold.

"Where is my slipper?"

"It is--I have--I want," I stammered.