'May I sit down, Prince?' said she.
'Yes, Winnie,' I replied; 'I've been waiting for you.'
'Been waiting for poor Winnie?' she said, her eyes sparkling anew
with pleasure; and she sat down close by my side, gazing hungrily at
the food--her hands resting on her lap.
I laid my hand upon one of hers; it was so damp and cold that it made
me shudder.
'Why, Winifred,' I said, 'how cold you are!' 'The hills are _so_
cold!' said she, '_so_ cold when the stars go out, and the red
streaks begin to come.'
'May I warm your hands in mine, Winnie?' I said, longing to clasp the
dear fingers, but trembling lest anything I might say or do should
bring about a repetition of last night's catastrophe.
'_Will_ you, Prince?' said she. 'How very, very kind!' and in a
moment the hand was between mine.
Remembering that it was through looking into my eyes that she
recognised me in the cottage, I now avoided looking straight into
hers. All this time she kept gazing wistfully at the food spread out
on the ground.
'Are you hungry, Winifred?' I said.
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