“I learnt it by heart; I haven’t a good memory, but I liked it so much.”
“Perhaps you would say it to me.”
Hilda looked up a little shyly.
“Oh, I can’t!” she exclaimed timidly.
“Can’t you?” and Odd looked down at her a humorously pleading interrogation.
“I can’t say things well; and it is too sad to say—one can just bear to read it.”
“Just bear to say it—this once,” Odd entreated.
They had reached the edge of the lawn, and stood on the grassy brink of the river. Hilda looked down into the clear running of the water.
“Isn’t it pretty? I don’t like deep water, where one can’t see the bottom; here the grasses and the pebbles are as distinct as possible, and the minnows—don’t you like to see them?”
“Yes, but Arcite. Don’t make me tease you.”