"Shall we sit down here?" he asked.
"No, not here," she answered, seized with a vague anxiety; "here I should soon begin to cry."
She ran on ahead of him, back into wood, and found the path again beside the brook. Here it was as dark as evening, but the magic of the sun's radiance was still felt, and filled her with worship of Nature.
Oh, how happy she was! how happy!
No danger, nothing to be afraid of ... not even of her own secret heart ... for he with whom she was walking was her comrade and playfellow--nothing more. He must not, could not, be anything more. She felt conscious of no evil; he gave her no furtive glances of desire, and she did not try to lead him on.
The bond between them and everything connected with it was above-board and clear as daylight, and though it was politic to keep it from others, there was not the least sin to hide. Their intercourse was purely fun for both.
She wanted to take his hand in her warm-hearted, impulsive way, but refrained in case her action should be misunderstood. Thus side by side they went on till they reached the spot where the brook, confined in a basin of rotten wood, gushed with a low murmur out of the earth. The pale green mossy floor was covered with rugged fronds of red-lined ferns, and leaves from the branches of the beeches fluttered down lazily.
"Here is the place to rest," said Lilly.
"But rather damp, isn't it?" he objected.
"We'll spread the plaid," she exclaimed, eagerly snatching it from him, for he had insisted on carrying it after her fall. She unfolded and threw it over the carpet of ferns. She crouched on the extreme right side of it, leaving him the lion's share, so that he should not spoil his beautiful new suit.