This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1897 edition. Excerpt: ...and went out to the fields. When Ralph came down he saw her there amongst The daisies and field-flowers. The morn was rare In freshness, like off Santa Barbara Some sweet November day; and Ralph thought Vere To be lone Proserpine in Enna vale, When she culled flowers on Olympian lawns. Kneeling, her face brushed by the thousand flowers, Her golden curls blowing as came or went The sea-drenched wind, she was fair Innocence; She, flower-like, and loving flavors sweet Amongst the flowers. Oh! why must she be prey To world"s ignoble life? Why could she not Wreathe flowers for her flower-grave in flowers? Thou flower-soul! Will pride and wealth and show Once stamp out from thy heart thy flower-love, As they have ever done to thy sad sisters? I think they will. Before, on other morns, Ralph would have gone to her and shared with her Her flower-love; for Ralph loved flowers too; Did he not press Vere"s flowers in his book? But she nor screamed to him, nor looked his way. This broke Ralph"s heart; he choked, he pressed his fingei Tight, and he said: "No, no! No longer! I cannot!" At table, when Maud was away, Vere smiled To Ralph, and she would answer; but, when Maud Came in, Vere changed and was most obdurate. Then Ralph decided he must leave the place Abruptly. He stayed a day yet; through whose hours He never saw fair Vere, she feigning sickness. That night Vere, coaxed to get her mandolin, Sweet favored all with easy melodies she knew. Small skill she had, yet sweetly did she play For one so young. One individuality She showed: when talking of stage-life all hotly, Her great enthusiasm made her put her elbows Tight "gainst her waist, then would she shake her body Most vigorously. It recalled that dance In Afric"s desert quaint,...