And he? You old worn people of the world, who perhaps are reading, think
what all this was to Paul--his young strong life vibrating to passionate
joys, his imagination kindled, his very being uplifted and thrilled with
happiness! His charming soul expanded, he found himself saying gracious
tender phrases to her. Every moment he was growing more passionately in
love, and in each new mood she seemed the more divine. Not one trace of
her waywardness of the day before remained. Her eyes, as they glanced at
him from under her hat, were bashful and sweet, no look of the devil to
provoke a saint. She talked gently.

He must take her to the place where she had peeped at him through the
trees. And--

"Oh! Paul!" she said. "If you had known that day, how you tempted me,
looking up at me, your whole soul in your eyes! I had to run, run, run!"

"And now I have caught you, darling mine," said Paul. "But you were wrong.
I had no soul--it is you who are giving me one now."

They sat on the bench where he had sat. She was getting joy out of the
colour of the moss, the tints of the beeches, every little shade and shape
of nature, and letting Paul see with her eyes.

And all the while she was nestling near him like a tender ring-dove to her
mate. Paul's heart swelled with exultation. He felt good, as if he could
be kind to every one, as if his temper were a thing to be ashamed of, and
all his faults, as if for ever he must be her own true knight and
defender, and show her he was worthy of this great gift and joy. And ah!
how could he put into words his tender worshipping love?