THE ROSICRUCIAN.
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move; but pressing a ringlet of hair which had escaped its hand, to his lips, waited silently.
"Yes, yes; I think—it may—" at last she muttered; but so confusedly, as scarcely to be distinguishable.
Fitzeustace remained rooted in rapturous attention, listening.
"I thought, I thought he looked as if he could love me," scarcely articulated the sleeping Eloise. "Perhaps, though he may not love me, he may allow me to love him.—Fitzeustace!"
On a sudden, again were changed the visions of her slumbers; terrified she started from sleep, and cried, "Fitzeustace!"
