"I'm telling you that I love you because you're the most adorable girl
I've ever known."
His boyish, conventional words broke the spell.
"I appreciate the tribute which you so gallantly pay me, Sir Knight. But I happen to know that the moonlight, the music of a dance, the song of birds this morning and the beauty of the landscape move you, as they should. You're young. You're too good looking. You're fine and unspoiled and I like you, Jeb. But you don't know yet what love means."
"I do, Miss Mary, I do."
"You don't and neither do I. You're in love with love. And so am I. It's the morning of life and why shouldn't we be like this?"
"There's no hope?" he asked dolefully.
"Of course, there's hope. There's something fine in you, and you'll find yourself in the world when you ride forth to play your part. And I'll follow you with tender pride."
"But not with love," he sighed.
"Maybe—who knows?" she smiled.
"Is that all the hope you can give me?"