ust
have, seemed to show that I recognised a distinction between the
drunken organist's daughter and a lady.'

I saw now, indeed, that she felt this keenly; and I knew that it was
nothing but the sweetness of her nature, coupled with the fond
recollection of the old happy days, that restrained that high spirit
of hers, and prevented her from giving expression to her indignation
and disgust.

All this was shown by the appealing look on her sweet, fond face, and
I was touched to the heart.

'Winifred--Miss Wynne,' I said, 'I beg your pardon most sincerely.
The shadow-dance has been mainly answerable for my folly. You did
look so exactly the little Winifred, my heart's sister, that I felt
it impossible to treat you otherwise than as that dear child-friend
of years ago.'

A look of delight broke over her face.

'I felt sure it was so,' she said. 'But it is a relief that you have
said it.' And the tears came to her eyes.

'Thank you, Winifred, for having pardoned me. I feel that you would
have forgiven no one else as you have forgiven me. I feel that you
would not have forgiven any one else than your old child-companion,
whom on a memorable occasion you threatened to hit, and then had not
the heart to do so.'

'I don't think I _could_ hit _you_,' said she, in a meditative tone
of perfect unconsciousness as to the bewitching import of her speech.

'Don't you think you could?' I said, drawing nearer, but governing my
passion.

'No,' said she, looking now for the first time with those wide-open
confiding eyes which, as a child, were the chief characteristic of
her face. 'I don't think I could hit you, whatever you did.'

'Couldn't you, Winifred?' I said, coming still nearer, in order to
drink to the full the wonder of her beauty, the thrill at my heart
bringing, as I felt, a pallor to my cheek. 'Don't you think you could
hit your old playfellow, Winifred?'

'No,' she said, still gazing in the same dreamy, reminiscent way
straight into my eyes as of yore. 'As a child you were so delightful.
And then you were so kind to me!'

At that word 'kind' from _her_ to _me_ I could restrain myself no
longer; I shouted with a wild laughter of uncontrollable passion as I
gazed at her through tears of love and admiration and deep
gratitude--gazed till I was blind. My throat throbbed till it ached:
I Could get out no more words; I could only gaze. At my shout
Winifred stood bewildered and confused. She did not understand a moo