This brought to mind a second
time the object of her being there now, and she began to devise
the best plan for delivering the bouquet. "I don't believe he
cares for the compliments," she said to herself, "any way, I'll
keep them till another time," but the flowers; how should she give
those to him? She was beginning to be very much afraid of the
figure sitting there so silently, and at last mustering all her
courage, she gave a preliminary cough, which started him to his
feet, and as his tall form towered above her she felt her fears
come back, and scarcely knowing what she was doing she thrust the
bouquet into his hand, saying as she did so, "POOR blind man, I am
so sorry and I've brought you some nice flowers."
The next moment she was gone, and Richard heard the patter of her
feet far up the gravelled walk ere he had recovered from his
surprise. Who was she, and why had she remembered him? The voice
was very, very sweet, thrilling him with a strange melody, which
carried him back to a summer sunset years ago, when on the banks
of the blue Rhine he had listened to a beautiful, dark-eyed Swede
singing her infant daughter to sleep.
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