"Come to me!" cried the poor maniac, who had crawled as far as the chain would permit her,—"come to me!" she cried, extending her thin arm towards him. Playing became a way of escape. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. Why don’t you wait and see if you do truly love me, then I can believe you? Then I know I am worth waiting for. You do not make me afraid like this. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it.
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