His eyes dwelt upon her. They were fierily blue in that great flood of
moonlight. His hand still rested upon her waist.
"But what a mistake to want the impossible!" he said, after a moment.
"I always do," said Dinah. "At least," she glanced up at him again, "I
always have--until to-night."
"And to-night?" he questioned, dropping his voice.
"Oh, I am quite happy to-night," she said, with a little laugh, "even
without the wings. If I hadn't thought of them, I should have nothing
left to wish for."
"I wish I could say the same," said Sir Eustace, with the faint mocking
smile at the corners of his lips.
"What can you want more?" asked Dinah innocently.
He leaned to her. "A big thing--a small thing! Would you give it to me,
my elf of the mountains, if I dared to tell you what it was?"
Her eyes fluttered and fell before the flaming ardour of his. "I--I don't
know," she faltered, in sudden confusion. "I expect so--if I could."
His arm slipped round her. "Would you?" he whispered. "Would you?"
She gave a little gasp, caught unawares like a butterfly on the wing. All
the magic of the night seemed suddenly to be concentrated upon her like
fairy batteries. Her first feeling was dismay, followed instantly by the
wonder if she could be dreaming. And then, as she felt the drawing of his
arm, something vehement, something almost fierce, awoke within her,
clamouring wildly for freedom.
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