Hiero!" That ended it; he had spoken, and I was not fool enough to urge him to another word.
And now, as I rode, my mind was still occupied with my growing concern for the poor child I had come to pity so.

Within me a furtive tenderness was growing which sometimes shamed, sometimes angered me, or left me self-contemptuous, restless, or dully astonished that my pride permitted it.

For in my heart such sentiments for such a maid as this--tenderness, consciousness of some subtlety about her that attracted me--should have no place.

There was every reason why I should pity her and offer aid; none why her grey eyes should hold my own; none why the frail body of her in her rags should quicken any pulse of mine; none why my nearness to her should stop my heart and breath.
Yet, all day long her face and slim shape haunted me--a certain sullen sweetness of the lips, too--and I remembered the lithe grace of her little hands as she broke the morsels of that midnight meal and lifted the cup of chilly water in which I saw the star-light dancing.

And "Lord!" thought I, amazed at my own folly.