y are," whispered Gillian, "but if all men were like Robin
Rue, what would become of us? Must we be punished for what we can't
help?"

And she put her little finger on his mouth, and he kissed it.

Then Martin himself sat down on the barrel where there was only room
for one; but it was Martin who sat on it. And after a while he said,
"You mightn't think it, but I have got a cottage, and there is nothing
whatever in it but a table which I made myself, and I think that is
enough to begin with. On the way to it we shall pass Hardham, where in
the Priory Ruins lives a Hermit who is sometimes in the mood. Beyond
Hardham is the sunken bed of the old canal that is a secret not known
to everybody; all flowering reeds and plants that love water grow
there, and you have to push your way between water-loving trees under
which grass and nettles in their season grow taller than children; but
at other times, when the pussy-willows bloom with gray and golden bees,
the way is clear. Beyond this presently is a little glade, the
loveliest in Sussex; in spring it is patterned with primroses, and
windflowers shake their fragile bells and show their silver stars above
them. Some are pure and colorless, like maidens who know nothing of
love, and others are faintly stained with streaks of purple-rose. So
exquisite is the beauty of these earthly flowers that it is like a
heavenly dream, but it is a dream come true; and you will never pass it
in April without longing to turn aside and, kneeling among all that
pallid gold and silver, offer up a prayer to the fairies. And I shall
always kneel there with you. But beyond this is a land of bracken and
undiscovered forests that hides a special secret. And you may run round
it on all sides within fifty yards, yet never find it; unless you
happen to light upon a land where grass springs under your feet among
deep cart-ruts, and blackberry branches scramble on the ground from the
flowery sides. The lane is called Shelley's Lane, for a reason too
beautiful to be told; since all the most beautiful reasons in the world
are kept secrets. And this is why, dear Gillian, the world never knows,
and cannot for the life of it imagine, what this man sees in that maid
and that maid in this man. The world cannot think why they fell in love
with each other. But they have their reason, their beautiful secret,
that never gets told to more than one person; and what they see in each
other is what they show to each other