know that he was coming--they were up and awake in the earliest dawn.
Then a great flood of golden sunlight came to welcome her; she hastened
to the window to see what the day was like, and whether the sky was
blue. It seemed to her that every little bird sung, "He is coming."

Here were the roses laughing in at the window, nodding as though they
would say, "This is the thirtieth of June." There flashed the deep,
clear river, hurrying on to the great sea over which he must have
crossed; the wind whispered among the leaves, and every leaf had a
voice. "He is coming to-day," they all said--"coming to-day."

There was a great stir even at that early hour in the morning between
the white and purple butterflies; there was a swift, soft cooing from
the wood-pigeons; the world seemed to laugh in the warm embrace of the
rising sun. She laughed too--a sweet, happy laugh that stirred the rose
leaf and jasmine.

"Oh, happy day!" she cried--"oh, kindly sun and kindly time, that brings
my love back to me."

She looked at the gate through which he would pass--at the rose tree
from which he would gather the rose; and she stretched out her hands
with a great, longing cry.

"Send him quickly--oh, kind Heaven!" she cried. "I have waited so long,
my eyes ache to look at him. I thirst for his presence as flowers thirst
for dew."

She looked at her watch, it was but just six--the laborers were going to
the field, the maids to the dairy, the herdsmen to their flocks. She
could see the hay-makers in the meadow, and the barges dropped lazily
down the stream. The time would soon pass and he would be here before
noon. Could it be possible that she should see him so soon?

"In six hours," she repeated, "she should see him in six hours."

Ah, well, she had plenty to do. She went round the pretty villa to see
if everything was as he liked best to see it, then she occupied herself
in ordering for his enjoyment every dish that she knew he liked; and
then she dressed herself to sit and wait for him at the window. She
looked as though she had been bathed in dew and warmed by the golden
sun, so bright, so sparkling, so fresh and brilliant, her eyes radiant
with hope and love, the long, silken lashes like fringe, the white lids
half-drooping, her face, with its passionate beauty heightened by the
love that filled her heart and soul. She wore a dress of amber muslin
with white lace, and in the rich masses of her dark hair lay a creamy
rose. Fair