conceive how he had dared it. And now what penalty would she inflict?
What if she should not forgive him? His soul was dissolved in fears. But,
sooth to say, the young lady's actual state of mind was by no means so
implacable as he apprehended. She had been ready to be very angry, but
the suddenness and depth of his contrition had disarmed her. It took all
the force out of her indignation to see that he actually seemed to have a
deeper sense of the enormity of his act than she herself had. And when,
after they had rejoined the party, she saw that, instead of taking part
in the sports, he kept aloof, wandering aimless and disconsolate by
himself among the pines, she took compassion on him and sent some one to
tell him she wanted him to come and push her in the swing. People had
kissed her before. She was not going to leave the first person who had
seemed to fully realize the importance of the proceeding to suffer unduly
from a susceptibility which did him so much credit. As for Henry, he
hardly believed his ears when he heard the summons to attend her. At that
the kiss which her rebuke had turned cold on his lips began to glow
afresh, and for the first time he tasted its exceeding sweetness; for her
calling to him seemed to ratify and consent to it. There were others
standing about as he came up to where Madeline sat in the swing, and he
was silent, for he could not talk of indifferent things.

With what a fresh charm, with what new sweet suggestions of complaisance
that kiss had invested every line and curve of her, from hat-plume to
boot-tip! A delicious tremulous sense of proprietorship tinged his every
thought of her. He touched the swing-rope as fondly as if it were an
electric chain that could communicate the caress to her. Tom Longman,
having done all the work that offered itself, had been wandering about in
a state of acute embarrassment, not daring to join himself to any of the
groups, much less accost a young lady who might be alone. As he drifted
near the swing, Madeline said to Henry--