Chapter 14

Day 7

"It was a good long time ago when he was still so young, sixteen or seventeen perhaps... I'm older than him... only by a year or two..."

She doubted it very much. From her look, Amanda was at least four or five years older than him. Sixteen or seventeen, she had exploited a boy sexually at the innocent age of sixteen! If it was true, she had committed a crime. It was almost as awful as rape! She had debauched an underage youth. Ava was so disturbed she couldn't keep it to herself, she told Polly about the unbelievably shameless hussy. She told Polly only about her unexpected meeting with Amanda when she was escorting Lady Byrne. Polly didn't know she had been seeing him these past days.

"How come did she exploit a young man at the innocent age of sixteen?! He was merely a boy at the time. It was child molestation!" she said in great disgust.

Polly didn't seem to share the same indignation at the woman's wickedness.

"That was hardly a molestation."

"Polly, he was underage!"

"Many men experience their first time one or two years earlier. They are hot and bothered like rutting stags at the period that you call innocent age. In this case, I'd rather call it a sharing of mutual interest and benefit."

Polly arched a brow as she continued chopping the vegetables.

"And I'm quite certain he doesn't feel he was molested or exploited at all."

"He was too young to have a sensible judgment and she took advantage of it. That woman was a lecherous cougar."

"You're talking like he was a victim. Believe me, even if he was, he was a willing victim. And even if the cougar really took advantage of him at first, I bet he took advantage of her just as much. Besides, he is probably no better than the cougar, maybe he also screwed with the servants."

"Polly!!!"

"Okay, maybe not. I guess a smug like him is too proud to do it with servants. The point is... I don't understand what makes you despise the so-called cougar. Even if the woman never... molested him as you said, he wouldn't remain chaste until now."

"I'm not talking about chastity, no. I'm talking about how could the cougar have a heart to... to deprave and corrupt a naive adolescent!"

Polly made a face.

"That smug a naive? Won't say so."

"That time he was, he was only sixteen!"

"Why are you snapping at me? What's the matter with you?!"

Ava sprang up from her seat and marched toward her bedroom door. A hot rush crept up on her ear when she heard Polly exclaimed a second before she closed the door behind her.

"Whatever the cougar did with him, it has nothing to do with you! What do you care?"

She sank down to the mattress. She would definitely forego dinner since she decided she wouldn't talk to Polly for some indefinite time. She heard her stomach gurgling. She only ate one or two bites for lunch, she must be hungry, but she had lost all appetite.

A few hours later in the middle of the night, she turned and tossed restlessly in the mattress. She was right. She couldn't have an hour of sleep.

***

Ashton contemplated the image of her in the canvas while waiting for her to come to his place for the last time. The last time, the last chance to be with her in this final hours.

After the clock struck twelve today, she would go and never come back. With the passing of time, she would fade into a distant memory. Years from now, she would be a thing of the past. But inside this canvas, she stayed and would never go away. Inside this canvas she would never be far. He would always have a piece of her with him. And it would be enough, it should be enough.

He stared at the blue asters in the vase, their petals shriveled up and dry. That was this infatuation supposed to be eventually. Just like these flowers, their beauty lasting for a very short time, soon it would be withered and dead before the season changed.

There was a soft knock and the door opened a little, and she appeared, coming into the room, looking at him shortly as usual, then she looked away and closed the door. This was the last time she walked past that door into the room. And the last time she would walk out of that door. She would never be here again after this. He watched her thoroughly, feeling an irrational urge to capture every bit of the moment, to memorize every single, meaningless thing she did from the second she appeared in the doorway.

Absurd, the way he thought about her with such a sense of melancholy, and a desperate feeling, like sadness, like loss. He was strongly infatuated with her, but he didn't have further relationship with her, he never touched her. He had been infatuated before, a few times, and there was a woman that once, was his biggest obsession, and was unforgettable until now. But he didn't feel like this when she was gone. He did miss the woman badly at the time, but not in this sort of way. At the time, he didn't feel sad and melancholy. When she walked to the commode, he left the room with a vague feeling, he didn't expect to feel this way when he started this in the first place.

Once he disappeared beyond the door, Ava took the costume and undressed quickly. She kept one eye on the door as she changed clothes, a little bit terrified by the idea that he would come into the room unexpectedly when she was half naked. Silly idea, he would have used a smarter trick to seduce her.

She was already sitting on the settee when he came back. Soon he noticed her unusual behavior and watched her furtively in thorough observation. She looked different today. She barely spoke and her eyes watching him with a curios alertness and interest at the same time.

"I tell you, those days were terrific. He was one of the greatest lover I ever had."

Amanda's words echoed over and over again in her mind. As she stared secretively at him, at his beautiful features, she couldn't help picturing what Amanda had possibly done to him. And what he had possibly done with Amanda.

She stared at his beautiful eyes, half hidden beneath his long eyelashes and imagined how would they look when they were gleaming with desire? How would it feel to be looked at with the gleam of desire by those mesmerizing eyes? To feel desired... by him?

She pictured Amanda kissing him, with the deliciously full lips of her, licking and teasing his lips till they parted and welcomed her tongue into the velvet heat inside. What would it feel like to taste him?

The thought made her feel lightheaded and out of breath, her heart beating irregularly and her palm sweaty. It always happened everytime he looked so awfully handsome, but today she didn't really understand why her feverish reaction to him was a bit too much. There must be something wrong with her. The next second she realized her neck and her face were growing damp as well. Was it because of her steamy thoughts or was it the stifling air?

Conscious of the curiously incessant stare from across the room, he glanced at her and caught her watching him. Usually her eyes would dart down and away, but surprisingly they didn't stray from him, her lips parted a little and her chest rose and fell slightly as if she had a difficulty drawing breath. What was going on?

"Are you quite all right?" he asked.

She licked her lips, that looked a bit pale, he just noticed, before answered.

"I think so."

Both of them realized her lips trembling lightly and her breath uneven.

"You don't seem well at all. I think you should rest on the sofa."

He got up and she watched him walking toward her, her eyes widened. He was a beautiful man, sleek and lean, and he moved with an apparent ease and an incisive authority. Savoring his broad shoulders, his wide chest and his slim waist that were so elegantly masculine, she resisted the impulse to glance down at the lower part of his body. Blast Amanda Chapman to mention his prodigious attribute.

He frowned at her reaction. He was rather uncertain what really was going on. Her eyes wandered over his body and rested somewhere along his chest. What was the meaning of it?

"What are you doing?" She asked nervously as he halted just inches away from her.

"Help you to the sofa." he replied shortly as he gripped her upper arm and pulled her up. She rose from the settee, too late to realize her body was shaking like a leaf and suddenly a rain of blinding spark fell on her vision, the room was smothered by darkness.

Her head crushed something sturdy and she felt a strong grip on her other arm. Everything was black for a while and when she began to regain her consciousness again the first thing she recognized was her own breath, short and unsteady, then a scent, a familiar scent of clean male skin and fresh linen, and a subtle smell of oil paint, and that warmth generated from the body holding her still. Next, she was cradled in his arms and carried somewhere and lowered until she was sitting on a plump cushion. She felt his hand on her nape, pushing her head down to her knees.

"We need to bring the blood back into your head."

She heard him saying.

"Feeling any better yet?" he asked after some time.

"I'm not sure..." she replied as she didn't feel any better. Her head was spinning and her body limp.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"No." she murmured, figuring out the cause of her fainting. She hadn't eaten anything since yesterday afternoon. Suddenly she was terrified, she was completely defenseless against him in this state. She was completely at his mercy now. She prayed she wouldn't lose the little consciousness she was still having right now. If she passed out completely, she would never know what he did to her while she were unconscious.

"It's not going to work then."

He gripped her shoulders and pulled her up, settling her to the back of the couch, but she had no strength to sit upright, she looked like she was going to collapse anytime he released his hold. He lay her across the sofa and she kept her eyes shut when he lowered her, struggling to control her rapid heartbeat, knowing he was bending down toward her so close. He settled her head on the armrest.

"You need to eat something."

She heard his voice and felt his warm fingers brushed her forehead gently, wiping away the coating dampness there. Her eyelashes fluttered as she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"I will send words to my servant. Is it all right if I leave you here for a little while?"

She nodded weakly.

"Good. I'll be but a moment."

He pulled away from her and a moment later, she heard the door opened and shut. He didn't seem to have any intention to seduce her at all. When she looked at him, there was a look in his eyes that she thought was a deep concern, or worry. She felt a bit guilty to have a nasty suspicion of him.

Minutes later, she heard the door opened, she opened her eyes and saw him strolling up near her. He helped her sit upright, holding her upper arm so she wouldn't slump against the back of the sofa. She rested her head on his shoulder. This felt unreal, she had no strength to control her body, barely able to stay upright, this was very scary... She sensed something cool in her lips, running into her mouth and flowing down her throat, and realized he was helping her to drink. The next moment, he brought some cheese to her mouth.

"It's the best I can get for now. Try to eat a little bit, can you?"

She bit a little of it and chewed, still feeling awfully dizzy.

"A bit more, you'll feel better in no time."

She made it to have a few more bites. Slowly, her body started to recover a little, her blurred vision went clear, and she just realized she was resting her head on his shoulder while he was holding her in his arm with one hand, and feeding her the cheese with another. She withdrew abruptly to make a space and he released his grip.

"Feeling better?" he asked. He looked thoroughly concerned, and there was nothing like, well, a gleam of desire in his eyes. Drat, she copied Lady Byrne's curse yesterday. Was Amanda Chapman that irresistibly attractive? She cursed inwardly, at both Amanda Chapman and herself. How come she thought about such a thing at the moment?

Ashton watched her with his observant eye. She was a bit weird today. She looked wary and curious. Now she was staring at him blatantly, without the slightest bit of concealment.

"Are you all right now?"

She startled. "Oh..." She darted her gaze away, looked slightly embarrassed.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good, but it's apparently not enough. Finish it, my servant will come soon with more sufficient food." He handed the cheese to her.

"What? It's really not necessary..."

"If you don't consume enough, you won't be able to get on your feet."

She couldn't deny it, so she obeyed. He got up and headed to sit before the canvas again, continuing his job. She watched him in silence.

"Except for your mother, did you ever paint a woman before?" She asked quietly.

His hand ceased to move, as if the question startled him. Something flickered in his eyes. She guessed it was passing memories. Memories of what, or who? He was silent for a long moment, she thought he would never answer it.

"Yes."

Unexpectedly he answered her question.

"Did you use women for your object quite often?" She asked again.

He glanced at her, and she blushed, realizing how terrible it sounded if somebody interpreted it the wrong way.

"I mean... object of your painting..."

"No."

He didn't let any emotion escape his cool facade, but somehow she knew he was uncomfortable with this topic.

"Why? As I know, women have become painters' great inspiration throughout centuries."

It took time for him to answer the question.

"I always paint an object because it has something that moves me in certain way, I rarely found that thing in women. I did find it in women, but there hasn't been many."

"There hasn't been many of...?"

"Women who inspires me and stimulates my imagination."

And stimulated anything else, she thought.

"How many women have you ever painted until now?"

"Three, including you."

One was his mother, one was her, and another one was... Amanda. The thought was awfully irritating. Amanda Chapman. Why did she believe her? Everybody knew Amanda was a horrible liar. Perhaps everything she said was a total lie. Perhaps the woman he painted was someone else. Unexpectedly, she found that she didn't like it either.

"I haven't seen her picture, the woman you painted before me."

"It's not here." he replied shortly.

He kept it somewhere else. It was probably in his bedchamber, or in his private study where he could sit and stare at it to his heart's content.

"Is she beautiful?"

"Indeed."

She felt a prick of some unpleasant emotion. No, not a prick, a stab precisely. She couldn't really explain it, she just knew she felt an increasingly intense dislike to Amanda.

A soft knock at the door interrupted their conversation.

"Do come in." he responded.

The door opened with a soft click and a young man with a friendly face appeared in the doorway, apparently his servant. The servant gave a low bow and brought them a basket. Ava felt both awkward and embarrassed, what would the servant think about her? She watched the servant drawing out some food and dining tools from the basket and settling them on the table in front of her. She expected a curious glance, but the young man was utterly professional. He bowed shortly at her and did his job efficiently without stealing a glance at her. Another thought occurred to her. Has the servant been accustomed to this kind of thing? Of women came and went in his master's place?

"Should I wait here or perhaps should I return home, Your Grace?" the servant asked politely.

"Wait here, Freddy. You are to take this lady home within the hour."

"What? No need to do that."

Ashton dismissed the servant before responding her refusal.

"You are not perfectly well. It's not safe for you to go anywhere alone, you could possibly pass out on your way home. Now finish your meal, you're going home right after."

It greatly surprised her. She didn't expect this day to end so soon.

"But, it isn't midday yet."

"You need to rest, and the picture is done actually..."

Actually he didn't need a week to finish it, he didn't even need her actual presence, it was only an excuse.

She fell silent at the knowledge that the picture was done, it was supposed to be today, but how unexpectedly fast everything went this day.

"Can I see it?"

"After you eat."

She glanced down at the sandwiches in the plate placed on the table. The delicious smell of freshly baked bread and the smoked meat quickly aroused her appetite and suddenly she realized that she was very hungry. Had he wasn't there with her, she would have taken it with her hand and devoured the sandwich in two sizable bites like she did at home. But she wouldn't do such a thing before his very eyes. To eat in front of him was already embarrassing. She brought the plate to her lap and started to tear the sandwich using knife and fork.

Watching her from his seat, he was fascinated by every movement of her

dainty hands, the way they held the dining tools, the way it brought the chunks into her mouth. She ate slowly and silently. Everything about her was utterly sweet and feminine. Even her simplest movement enthralled him. He could just stare at her all day and never get bored.

Even when she wasn't looking at him, pretending to be busy with the food, she could feel his silent observation. Despite her craving, she stopped after the first sandwich, setting the knife and fork at the plate.

"You're not consuming enough to recover your strength. Eat more."

"It's enough."

"It's not. You're not going home before the plate is empty."

It was no use denying him, and she was overwhelmingly hungry anyway, she managed to finish the meal, resisting the urge to demolish the crumble of the sandwich. She placed the empty plate on the table, took the half empty glass and drank a little. She glanced nervously when he got up and approached her.

"Give me your hand." he said

"Just in case you have yet to recover, I don't want you to fall on the floor."

She took his hand and let him help her to get up, feeling her cheeks warm. Why did she react like a silly fool? He just wanted to help her.

"I'm all right now." she looked down to hide her blushing face.

"Are you sure? Walk slowly."

He released her carefully as they walked to the canvas, but he stayed close beside her, ready to steady her if she collapsed at any moment. She never imagined a man like him could show a gentle protectiveness like this, meanwhile he had been very proper and polite, he didn't touch her more than necessary.

They reached the canvas and she caught her breath at the very first sight of the painting. She had seen it when the image was half finished but she never imagined the final result to be so amazing. She wondered if others would recognize it was her in the painting. Oh yes, it was her, definitely, for the physical details were extremely accurate, from the perfect shade of green he used to color her eyes, until the intricate shapes of her fingernails. She couldn't understand how he could depict her very precisely yet made her very different indeed. She looked divinely beautiful here.

"This is too beautiful, I don't believe I really look like this."

"Then you're blind to see your own allure."

It wasn't the grandest compliment she ever heard from a man, but she felt like

it meant a thousand times much more. It sounded great when he was the one who said that. She wondered if he ever said it to a woman before. He was not a sweet talker and he didn't talk much, but a little words from him could thrill her and move her like nothing could ever before.

If it was how he looked at her, she didn't need to worry about the sluttish wanton Amanda Chapman. In this painting, she was a hundred times more amazing than Amanda.

But she had yet to see how he painted Amanda.

Something distracted her from the relentless thoughts about Amanda.

"Your hand, has it recovered completely?"

She just noticed his hand was no longer wrapped in bandages.

He brought his hand under inspection.

"Your stinky mud is magic. My hand healed so incredibly fast." He let her see the result of the medication. The wounded flesh had recovered thoroughly, leaving a scar across his palm.

"I should have brought you the ointment earlier. The madam said if it is applied immediately, the wound will leave no scar."

He studied the scar on his palm.

"I don't mind this." he said. This scar would always be a reminder of her.

They stared at each other again and she looked away first. She looked around awkwardly, uncertain what to do. Now that everything had done, it was time to put it to an end. He pulled out an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her.

"What is this?" her eyes widened at the sight of the envelope and she stared at him with questioning glance.

"You gave your time and effort to be here and I want you to know I don't take it for granted."

She recognized what was inside the envelope. Again the suspicion crept in her mind. Was he trying to entice her with this?

"I can't accept it."

"It's not a handout, it's just a token of appreciation."

"That's very thoughtful of you, but I don't do it for money." she said profoundly.

"I owe you my life, I can never pay you back for that. I'm grateful I can do something for you, and it's a little thing compared with what you had done for me."

"Do one more thing for me. I want you to accept this."

She shook her head.

"I know you saved my life without expecting anything in return. I want to do the same to you."

He chuckled, and for a moment his smile got her dumbfounded.

"Why do you think you're here now? I asked you to return my favor."

"I know you didn't intend to do it in the first place."

He expelled a quiet sigh and put the envelope back in his pocket.

"Sure."

Then he looked away as if he didn't want to meet her gaze when he said

"You can get prepared now, my coach is waiting."

"For what?"

"Taking you home."

"Oh, that's very kind of you, but ..."

"Please accept my offer this time, or I'll be troubled all day thinking about you walking home all by yourself."

He would be troubled all day? Thinking about her? But it was only a mild concern because of her condition, nothing more.

"All right."

"Good."

He left her to change clothes. As she placed the outfit in its box for one final time, she couldn't help a slight sadness creeping into her heart. She knew this was the last day but she didn't really think about it until now. She was too consumed with suspicion and thoughts about Amanda Chapman. Now that their time had come to an end, the knowledge just hit her. From now on, they would never see each other anymore. They lived in different world. Little chance their paths would ever cross again in the future. Probably this was the last time she saw him.

There was a soft knock on the door and she heard him calling.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

The door opened and he appeared in the doorway. She walked toward the door, feeling her heart heavy for she knew she would walk past that door for the last time. She looked up at his face when she got near.

He looked back at her and her eyes captivated him with a deeply soulful spark. She seemed to be staring through his eyes into his soul. Suddenly he felt like his heart was weighted down with sorrow. As if his feelings found an echo in hers, she blinked and he could see her eyes tinged with a hint of melancholy. She looked away and moved past him toward the door.

He resisted a wistful ache inside his chest

as she walked out of that door for the last time. The carriage was waiting right before the door, and the servant moved to open the carriage door for her.

When the carriage door opened, she was so overwhelmed with emotion she could barely breathe. Once she stepped in, she would leave it all behind and never saw him again for the rest of her life. The servant waiting to help her in, but she stopped and turned her head, looking at him over her shoulder for the last time, and said

"Goodbye."

Ashton watched her turn to him for one last look and she said goodbye, and then she smiled, tender enough to break his heart.

He turned away and walked into the studio, couldn't bring himself to reply as he felt his resistance crumbled and he was afraid his voice would crack as well. He couldn't bear to see the carriage took her away and disappeared in the end of the street. He walked across the room absentmindedly, and found himself bracing his hands on the edge of the table some time later. He stared blankly at the wood-textured surface as he tried to get himself together.

He looked around, the room was still perfectly the same but he knew he would never look at the room quite the same way again. Like this room was missing something, and though the other things remained, it felt empty. The sun filled the room with its bright natural light, but it felt stark and bereft.

Or it was not the room, it was his heart.

This was the most absurd feeling he had ever experienced in his life, at the same time, it was the most real emotion he had ever felt in years.

Ava turned in her seat to look at the studio until it disappeared from her sight. That stony cottage would always be a bittersweet memories for her. Just a few days ago she couldn't wait for this day, to be free to leave and never looked back, but now that the day had come, all she ever wanted was to stay and never go away.

Tears threatened to blur her sight and she rubbed her eyes quickly. Silly of her. What did she cry about? She was just... she was just... a little bit too emotional about this. All right, perhaps she had grown a tender feeling for him, especially after he turned to be gentle to her in the last days.

They had developed a strange relationship. They were not friends, but they had shared something more intense and personal than acquaintances. But it wouldn't change anything between them. Certainly they were not a proper acquaintance to each other, let alone friends. Perhaps they were like two strangers who coincidentally met at a train. They talked to each other, they shared their feelings, they enjoyed each other's company along the way, but at the end of the journey, they parted ways and never met each other again.

"Please stop here." She exclaimed when the familiar road to home appeared in a distance. Her house was still a hundred meters meters away, but she didn't want to be seen descending from a fancy coach by anyone. The carriage drew to a halt, a moment later, the door opened and the servant appeared.

"Be careful, Miss." he said politely as he helped her climb down the coach. The servant looked at the row of cottages a distance away.

"Do you need me to escort you home, Miss?"

She was just about to refuse his offer, when a sudden thought occurred to her.

"That's very kind of you, Freddy, it's your name? Isn't it?"

"Yes, Miss."

Freddy followed behind her as they walked along the path.

"How long have you worked for His Grace, Freddy?" she asked casually.

"This is my fifth year, Miss."

"I see that he treats you well, then."

"Oh, aye, Miss. He is strict to the rules but he is quite fair, and he pays me a handsome salary." Freddy grinned.

"Good for you."

With a quick yet thorough observation,

she concluded that Freddy was childlike and guileless. She asked several questions, keeping her pace slow, before venturing further.

"Is it your usual job, Freddy, to deliver his woman acquaintance home?" she kept her tone neutral.

"No, actually I was quite taken aback, Miss. His Grace has never had a woman acquaintance before." Freddy blurted ingeniously.

"Really?"

"Yes, the servants speculated about it for a long time, but he had never been seen with a woman, except for Lady Selene recently."

She felt an irrational relief.

"I helped him to finish an art project." she explained herself to Freddy.

"Of course, Miss."

They didn't talk again after that until she reached home. She thanked Freddy for his kind help and they exchanged polite farewell. Soon after she entered the house, she locked herself in her bedroom and sank into the bed. She had wasted this day be anxious about nothing. She had suspected him as a scoundrel, she had mistaken his intention to her, and it was all because of the shameless liar, Amanda Chapman. How could she believe her in the first place? Lady Byrne had mentioned dozens of times Amanda was a horrible liar. Now that she thought about it, she realized how blind she was. Now that everything was over, she realized that Amanda's story was a lot of damn nonsense. Why didn't she believe the lady? The lady was her friend and she never lied. Like the lady said, he was an incredible moral man.

But it didn't matter now, because she would never see him again. And for some irrational reason, she felt gloomy about that.

*****

"It seems to be over right now, but actually it has just begun."

A familiar voice came from behind her as she was picking tomatoes absentmindedly in the market. She turned to find Madam Nora standing there, staring at her.

"Good morning, Madam... Nice to see you again." She managed to say. She didn't expect to meet the fortune teller here. The Gypsy woman didn't return her greeting, she watched her silently for a while, then she said.

"I see that it's coming, and what is coming is better than what is gone."

"What is possibly coming?"

"The one that you belong to. He is a man who will put you first and give everything he has to be with you."

Ava didn't think that the madam's words made any sense, but she smiled and replied with a friendly tone.

"I don't know what you mean, I don't think there is a man like you just said in my life now. Even if he does exists, I don't think that I know him."

"Oh you knew him, you always knew."

The madam narrowed her eyes in a way that made the hair in her nape rise. Really, it could be creepy sometimes.

"I doubt it, Madam, because I can hardly think of a name right now."

"Only your heart can answer it. He is the man your heart most desires."

For some reason, images of him began to play through her mind. Quite taken aback by the first thing floating to her brain, she terminated the flashing memories abruptly. She shouldn't think about him, she should think about... Magnus, how could she forget about him? He was the man her heart most desired. How could she think about the duke instead, in the first place?

She tried to calm herself from the little shock and replied.

"I wish I got a clue."

The madam smiled mysteriously.

"You don't have to say a word, but he knows just what you want. He will see that you have anything you wish."

"How could it be possible?"

"You'll be surprised."

She made a polite excuse to go and fled away, leaving the market. She almost darted in the corner of the street, to the path led to the studio. She felt strange, like she had walked the path for all her life and suddenly she had to change it. Suddenly returned to the old routine felt unnatural, felt not right. Just a week, and everything changed. A week that supposed to be agonizing, yet it turned to be wonderful. She would remember this period of time.

As she left the crowded street and walked along a quiet road to the bridge in the end of it, she felt alone and bereft. She was recalling the scenery she used to see on her way to his place, the cottages she used to pass, the hedgerows she used to walk by, when she reached the bridge. Suddenly a sight in a distance caught her eye. She froze on her feet, unable to move or breathe, her heart drumming in a frantic beat.

He was standing across the bridge, looking as stunned by the sight of her as she felt at his presence. When she just stood still and stared at him without a word, he walked toward her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in astonishment, totally forgot about the standard polite greetings. She thought she would never see him again.

"Waiting for you." he replied as he stopped a feet away from her.

Silly of her, the simple answer suddenly sounded so romantic.

"Why?" her breath caught in her chest.

"I want to give you this." He drew something from his pocket.

"Here, please take it."

She glanced at him, then at the tiny, beautifully wrapped box in his hand.

"What is it?"

"It's only a small gift, I want you to have it."

"I..." she hesitated.

"You said you didn't do it for money. I didn't mean it to be a transaction either. I just think you deserve it. Please don't turn me down this time."

He had been waiting for her in this place to give it, and she would only disappoint him if she rejected it. She took the gift and glanced at him.

"Thank you."

He looked like he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it back. She thought he looked as if he was uncertain what to say or do.

"Goodbye." he finally said, and he turned around and walked away. She was too stupefied, she could barely think of what to say. She stood still, watching him leave, still feeling like she was caught in a dream.

She stared at the empty place where he had been standing just a moment ago. She looked down at the little gift in her hand and suddenly she couldn't help to find out what was inside. She removed the paper covering the box and opened it.

Her heart stopped at the first sight of it. A beautiful oval snuff box shimmering under the sun inside the box. Too generous a gift, it was a luxury, made for ladies, for women who was fortunate to enjoy the finer things in life. She knew that this little thing cost a fortune. But not the fine beauty or the enormous generosity that astounded her. It was a strange coincidence his gift was precisely a thing she was enchanted by some days ago. She examined it thoroughly. It was exactly the snuff box in the fancy shop she admired. How could it be possible?

"You'll be surprised."

As if answering her question, an irritating voice inevitably floating through her brain.

"You don't have to say a word, but he knows just what you want. He will see that you have anything you wish."

Madam Nora's prophecy echoed in her mind again and again as she made her way home.

*****