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Brame, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Monica), 1836-1884

"Dora Thorne"

She saw the startled look of delight on his face, and
smiled at his pleasure.
"Pray forgive me," he said. "I--I can not pass you without one
word. Time has seemed to me like one long night since I saw you
last."
He held in his hand some beautiful lilies of the valley--every
little white warm bell was perfect. He offered them to her with
a low bow.
"This is the most beautiful flower I have seen for many years,"
he said. "May I be forgiven for begging permission to offer it
to the most beautiful lady I have ever seen?"
Beatrice took it from him, blushing at his words. He walked by
her side along the yellow sands, the waves rolling in and
breaking at their feet. Again his eloquence charmed her. He
told her his name, and how he was captain of a trading vessel.
Instinctively he seemed to understand her character--her
romantic, ideal way of looking at everything. He talked to her
of the deep seas and their many wonders; of the ocean said to be
fathomless; of the coral islands and of waters in whose depths
the oyster containing the pale, gleaming pearl is found; of the
quiet nights spent at sea, where the stars shine as they never
seem to shine on land; of the strange hush that falls upon the
heaving waters before a storm.


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