We are so young, too.

It will be time enough years hence to talk of such things." "Too young to love! We are in the very spring-time of our life,--the season of blossoms and fragrance, music and love,--oh, daughter of poetry! is it you who utter such a thought?
Would you wait for the sultry summer, the dry autumn, to cultivate the morning flower of Paradise ?" "I did not dream you had so much hidden romance," said I, smiling at his metaphorical language, and endeavoring to turn the conversation in a new channel.

"I thought you mocked at sentiment and poetic raptures." "Love works miracles, Gabriella.

You do not answer.

You evade the subject on which all my life's future depends.