When she caught his eyes glowing with passionate
admiration, she shyly affected to withdraw hers from his gaze,
turning on him at times flashes of her dark eyes which electrified
every nerve of his sensuous nature. She felt the pressure of his
hand, the changed and softened inflections of his voice, she knew
the words of her fate were trembling on his lips, and yet they did
not come! The shadow of that pale hand at Beaumanoir, weak and
delicate as it was, seemed to lay itself upon his lips when about to
speak to her, and snatch away the words which Angelique, trembling
with anticipation, was ready to barter away body and soul to hear
spoken.
In a shady passage through a thick greenery where the lights were
dimmer and no one was near, she allowed his arm for a moment to
encircle her yielding form, and she knew by his quick breath that
the words were moulded in his thoughts, and were on the point to
rush forth in a torrent of speech. Still they came not, and Bigot
again, to her unutterable disgust, shied off like a full-blooded
horse which starts suddenly away from some object by the wayside and
throws his rider headlong on the ground.
Pages:
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615