The Broken Pitcher

The Broken Pitcher
The Jewel Casket
The Kitchen Maid
The Lady of Shalott
with a glow of regard. She was warmly gratified-- and in another moment still more so, by a little movement of more than common friendliness on his part.--He took her hand;-- whether she had not herself made the first motion, she could not say-- she might, perhaps, have rather offered it--but he took her hand, pressed it, and certainly was on the point of carrying it to his lips-- when, from some fancy or other, he suddenly let it go.--Why he should fe
oil painting
el such a scruple, why he should change his mind when it was all but done, she could not perceive.--He would have judged better, she thought, if he had not stopped.--The intention, however, was indubitable; and whether it was that his manners had in general so little gallantry, or however else it happened, but she thought nothing became him more.-- It was with him, of so simple, yet so dignified a nature.-- She could not but recall the attempt with great satisfaction.