to touch and gather such a rare blossom as this was to bloom upon my heart?
With every night that fell, with every day that dawned, I blessed the sacred chances which had led my footsteps thither in the month of lilacs.
All the while I kept the dear branch by me dead and scentless and without colour as it was.
It would have seemed no miracle to me if any morning I had found it bloom with fresh bud and leaf, for that would have been not more miraculous than was the beauty and the joy into which my life had suddenly burst forth.
I do not know if ever she quite knew how much I loved her.
Poor men cannot show their love in those symbols of rich gifts which women most value and most easily read. No doubt it seems hard and cold in us that we do not lavish on our best beloved all that her heart craves: no doubt it seems to a young, thoughtless female creature that it is not so much the power lacking as the will when we forbear to hang her neck with gems and fill her hand with gold. And when not only do we fail in that, but when we are even powerless to feed the bright lips we kiss with any save the scantiest fare, and stretch the fair limbs we cherish on any save the poorest bed of straw,—then,
