“That’s a bit too precious to tell to any man,” Adam assured her, gravely. “And yet, you are so nearly like a girl that I can almost tell you about her.”
“What is her name?” asked Garde, catching her breath in little quick gasps.
“Her name? Ah, I hardly tell it to myself, often. But her name would sound sweet in these woods. Her name is—now, mark you, don’t you ask me to repeat it again. Never mind her name, anyway.... Well, it’s Garde. You will have to be contented with that. Ah, but she is the sweetest, most beautiful little woman in the world. Her loveliness goes all through, the same as beauty is everywhere in these woods. It’s her nature to be lovely.”
His voice became an utterance of melody. It seemed a part of the forest tones. He had taken off his hat, for in his mind Garde stood before him, a smiling dream, even as Garde actually walked beside him, a smiling reality.
“Is she tall?” said Mistress Merrill.
“Yes, somewhat taller than you,” said Adam, “Being gentle and likeable you might make one think upon her, but her voice is sweeter than yours, and, well—she is a girl, and you are merely girlish.”
“Have you loved her long?” said Garde, again casting her gaze upon the ground, as she walked.
“Years!” said Rust. “I have loved her all my life, for I never began to live till I saw her first, and I loved her the moment I saw her.”
“And does she love you?”
“Ah, now you approach forbidden ground. It would be a sacrilege for me to prate—even here in these woods—of her sweet thoughts. I have told you too much already. You are a very devil of a boy, to have gotten so much from me, touching on this subject. I’ll be sworn, I don’t know why I have let you draw me out like this. But I stop you here. It is no concern of yours whether she likes me or not.”