A LOVE-LETTER Some beautiful days followed, so beautiful to Grizel that as they passed away she kissed her hand to them.

Do you see her standing on tiptoe to see the last of them?
They lit a fire in the chamber of her soul which is the home of all pure maids, and the fagots that warmed Grizel were every fond look that had been on her lover's face and every sweet word he had let fall.

She counted and fondled them, and pretended that one was lost that she might hug it more than all the others when it was found.

To sit by that fire was almost better than having the days that lit it; sometimes she could scarcely wait for the day to go.
Tommy's fond looks and sweet words! There was also a letter in those days, and, now that I remember, a little garnet ring; and there were a few other fagots, but all so trifling it must seem incredible to you that they could have made so great a blaze--nothing else in it, on my honour, except a girl's heart added by herself that the fire might burn a moment longer.
And now, what so chilly as the fire that has gone out! Gone out long ago, dear Grizel, while you crouched over it.

You may put your hand in the ashes; they will not burn you now.