The Diary of Dewdrop | ||
A Week Later
I dreamed all night long of the morning when I should hear that voice calling me. From the sheer force of my dreams, I awoke before daylight, and there I lay for what seemed an interminable length of time, waiting and listening. Not even the tiniest whisper of my name! Three times I arose, and crept to the window, and peered out, wistfully, and three times I returned to my couch, there to toss and turn and complain. “Why does he not come any more? He has not been near me since that night when he followed me, and I laughed and mocked and made light of all things.”
Finally, I drowsed off again,
With trembling fingers, I slid back my blinds, and, bending over the flowers, buried my face in them. Then, I drew them close into my arms. As I took them in, he came out from behind the cherry tree, his face ecstatic with hope and happiness.
“See, ah, see, dear Madame Summer!” I cried, waking her, as usual; “his flowers for me! You understand?”
She took hold of them sharply. “Go put them right back, quickly!” she said. “You foolish girl! Do you not understand that he will conclude that you have accepted him?”
“Ah, but he has already seen me take them in,” I declared, clinging to my happiness, piteously.
She took the flowers from me, scoldingly, and herself replaced them.
The Diary of Dewdrop | ||