as a horse, and had the greatest delight in bodily exercise, whatever
it was. We really had some difficulty in getting him to stop when it
was getting rather more than dusk, and the moon was brightening just
as we were off Runnymede. We landed there, and were looking about
for a place whereon to pitch our tents (for we had brought two with
us), when an old man came up to us, bade us good evening, and asked
if we were housed for that that night; and finding that we were not,
bade us home to his house. Nothing loth, we went with him, and Clara
took his hand in a coaxing way which I noticed she used with old men;
and as we went on our way, made some commonplace remark about the
beauty of the day. The old man stopped short, and looked at her and
said: "You really like it then?"

"Yes," she said, looking very much astonished, "Don't you?"

"Well," said he, "perhaps I do. I did, at any rate, when I was
younger; but now I think I should like it cooler."

She said nothing, and went on, the night growing about as dark as it
would be; till just at the rise of the hill we came to a hedge with a
gate in it, which the old man unlatched and led us into a garden, at
the end of which we could see a little house, one of whose little
windows was already yellow with candlelight. We could see even under
the doubtful light of the moon and the last of the western glow that
the garden was stuffed full of flowers; and the fragrance it gave out
in the gathering coolness was so wonderfully sweet, that it seemed
the very heart of the delight of the June dusk; so that we three
stopped instinctively, and Clara gave forth a little sweet "O," like
a bird beginning to sing.