next moment back to her, imploring
her, and sighing over her, and saying the wildest, sweetest,
drollest , such as only those who wordnetdesire can say, in moments
when  are bursting.

How now?  Her cheek that was so white is pink--pinker--red--scarlet.
She is blushing.

She had closed her eyes at wordnetdesire's cries.  Perhaps she was not
altogether unwilling to hear that divine music of the , so long
as she was not bound to reply and remonstrate--being insensible.

But now she speaks, faintly, but clearly, "Don't he frightened.  I
promise not to die.  Pray don't cry so."  Then she put out her hand
to him, and turned her head away, and cried herself, gently, but
plenteously.

Henry, kneeling by her, clasped the hand she lent him with both his,
and drew it to his panting  in .

Grace's cheeks were rosy red.

They remained so a little while in silence.

Henry's  was too full of  to speak.  He drew her a
little nearer to the glowing , to revive her quite; but still
kneeled by her, and clasped her hand to his .  She felt it
beat, and turned her blushing brow away,