Here the path somewhat narrowed. Mrs. Cameron went on first, Kenelm
and Lily behind; she, of course, on the dry path, he on the dewy
grass.

She stopped him. "You are walking in the wet, and with those thin
shoes." Lily moved instinctively away from the dry path.

Homely though that speech of Lily's be, and absurd as said by a
fragile girl to a gladiator like Kenelm, it lit up a whole world of
womanhood: it showed all that undiscoverable land which was hidden to
the learned Mr. Emlyn, all that land which an uncomprehended girl
seizes and reigns over when she becomes wife and mother.

At that homely speech, and that impulsive movement, Kenelm halted, in
a sort of dreaming maze. He turned timidly, "Can you forgive me for
my rude words? I presumed to find fault with you."

"And so justly. I have been thinking over all you said, and I feel
you were so right; only I still do not quite understand what you meant
by the quality for mortals which the fairy did not give to her
changeling."

"If I did not dare say it before, I should still less dare to say it
now."

"Do." There was no longer the stamp of the foot, no longer the flash
from her eyes, no longer the wilfulness which said, "I insist;"--"
Do;" soothingly, sweetly, imploringly.

Thus pushed to it, Kenelm plucked up courage, and not trusting himself