“ I love her, and she loves me, and knows that she can tell me anything. That's how it was, Wilbraham. You're not a father, but you can imagine, perhaps, what a father feels about these things, when his daughter is the chief thing in the world to him."
"I suppose I can," said Wilbraham. "But all the same you're not treating her in the way you boast of if you're not prepared to look upon Harry in the same light. You'll agree that on the outside of things they're not equal—those two."
"I don't agree to that," said Bastian, dogmatically. ”

“ He longed passionately to see the fairies. The beauty of the earth meant so much to him. All through his childhood his love for it had grown and grown till it had become almost a pain to him. For though it meant so much he did not know what it meant. It had always seemed to be leading him up to something, some great discovery, or some great joy—at least some great emotion—which would give it just that meaning that would tune his soul to it and entrench him safely behind some knowledge, hidden from mortal eyes, where he could survey life as it was, perfect and blissful, and withal secret. ”

“ Why do you want to go away? It isn't just to see your mother. I know that well enough. You want the life of London, the life you led there before Harry was born—theatres, and suppers and gaiety, with the sort of people that you ought to be ashamed of mixing yourself up with, when you think about Harry, and what he is. You've done without it for nearly eighteen years. For goodness' sake do without it for a little time longer. Don't knock down what we've been building up for all these years, just for a selfish whim. Think of Harry, not of yourself. ”

“ Harry turned a surprised face on him. "No, it's for me to decide on," he said. "By and by I shall tell Granny—of course. But I don't in the least know when it will be. There's nothing to show yet."
The phrase struck Wilbraham oddly. Harry had used it once or twice to him before. "One has to decide upon things with one's brain," he said, "and out of one's experience—important things that may affect one's life. They can't be left to impulse." ”

“ He loved her—more than he loved anybody—and had a man's sense of protection towards her. He did not know yet that he loved Viola. The idea of love had not yet occurred to him in connection with her. As he ran upstairs to get his mother's shawl, the thought crossed his mind that he had never yet wanted to get away from his mother for the time he was accustomed to devote himself to her, and puzzled him a little.
He was more than usually kind to her as they walked up and down the long bowling green together between the close-clipped yew hedges. ”

“ Harry's sadness would pass. He was still a boy, in years hardly more than a child, and Viola was no older. If they were thrown together over years, their young love might ripen into the love of a life-time; as it was, it would probably die down to a fragrant memory—a love-idyll of summer woods, happy and innocent, but no more than the budding of love in the tender hearts of two pretty children. Wilbraham even thought that Harry might have put it aside from him, at least for a time. ”

“ To them the happiness of youth is an earnest of still still greater happiness to come; a youth cut short is a youth wasted, however it may have fulfilled itself.
To Lady Brent, watching the news from the battlefields of the Somme, day after day, week after weary week, it seemed as if all young life hung by the balance of a hair. She felt the weight of it far more than during the previous years, in which Harry had been far removed, and the details of the fighting had not been brought before her with this daily deadly insistence. ”

“ Viola talked very little, but her father sometimes referred to her, as if to show with pride what she was. Her enthusiasms showed here and there. Wilbraham's wonder grew at her.
Harry came to his mind again. He brought his name in deliberately. "Harry, my pupil, used to shout that out when he first read it. He loves poetry, and it takes him like that."
Viola made no reply, but the flush dyed the rose-petal of her cheeks again. "It's the youth in him," her father said. "Poetry brings you real joy when you're young, doesn't it, Viola?" ”

“ There's something comforting about your being a girl, though I don't think about you as being grown up, either."
"Well then, tell me, Harry," she said, coaxingly. "We're real friends, aren't we? I'd tell you if there was anything that was making me unhappy. I suppose I should tell mother first, but after her I'd tell you—because we're friends."
The inclination came to him to pour out his burdened heart to her, but he put it aside. She was a dear loyal little soul, and it would assuage his longing to talk to her about Viola; but he could not burden her with a secret, to relieve his own burden. ”

“ Harry would go his way, and Viola would go hers. Their ways lay naturally very far apart. They might write to each other for a time, and they might see one another occasionally; but what would it matter? At the end of four years, when Harry would be twenty-one, it was most probable that this almost childish love passage would be forgotten, or exist only as a fragrant memory.
Wilbraham divined in himself at this point a faint regret at the thought of this beautiful boy and girl ceasing to love one another. Viola had made a deep impression upon him. ”

“ Her happiness was too strong in her to be kept under, and she would not have been human, or feminine, if she had not wished to make a pleasant impression upon Wilbraham, who was so near to Harry. It was the impression of delicious sparkling youth that came to him most strongly. It was as if the confession was drawn out of him reluctantly when in his answer to Harry's question he said slowly: "She's a very beautiful child." ”

“ Viola kissed her again as she asked her question.
"I know that Harry is alive," said Jane, sitting upright and looking out across the waters of the pool, upon which there was not a tremor. It was as if it had hushed itself to listen. "This place seems to be full of him. I know why. It's because of the love that it holds. Love can't die; it's there for always. Harry loves you just as much as he did when you came here together. I believe he loves me too, just as he used to when I was little. ”

“ There were perhaps a dozen in all, and they gave what light was necessary, but left the high-pitched, raftered roof just a-glimmer, and parts of the hall in shadow. The portraits that hung above the dark wainscoting were dimly seen, the gilded carving of the gallery and the screen beneath it glowed softly where the candles shone upon it, and faded into rich dimness beyond the circle of light.
Viola! She would love this old hall, and all the other stately rooms of the ancient house. ”

“ She thought she knew more than other girls were likely to know what it must have meant to Harry, who did not seem even to want to speak of it. The maternal instinct which is in all women drew her to sympathy with him. She and Jane between them would get rid of that sadness and tiredness that lay over him. If Jane was too young, and she too occupied with somebody else to give him the consolation that would quickly heal such wounds as he was suffering from, he would still, surely, respond to their affection, and forget his troubles. She must not talk too much about her own happiness. ”

“ But what I'm quite certain of is that Harry couldn't have been wasted. I think that's what poor Lady Brent can't see. All of him that we loved is alive somewhere. I'm more and more sure of that every moment. I believe it's what Harry is trying to say to us. Let's just say we believe it, Viola dear. Perhaps it will even make him more happy if we do. I believe it. I believe Harry is alive and that he knows about us, and some day you will see him again, and you will be happier together than you have ever been. Say it, Viola. ”

“ I shall be going away myself before long, and as long as the war lasts nothing will be quite like what it was before."
"Is it only the war that makes you sad?" she asked. "If there's anything else, I wish you'd tell me, now we're alone together. Of course, with Pobbles I suppose I'm rather like a boy, and with you, too, when we're all three together. But I'm not always like that—inside, I mean. I'm really more grown up than you'd think."
Harry put his arm around her thin shoulders and gave her a fraternal hug. "You're a dear," he said. "I don't really think of you as like a boy. ”

“ The initiative had been more his than hers, and now it was his again. The fact of her taking her seat there, under the tree, was an invitation, though she may not have meant it as such. They might talk there through the long morning hours, but their talk could not be only of externals. It must be on a more intimate note, or they might just as well roam the woods together lightly. This green nook by the water, hidden and secret, was a shrine in which they would worship together, as yet they knew not what, but it would be something sacred and beautiful that was calling to both of them. ”

“ It was holiday time with him. He had come up here after luncheon thinking to make out the treasure island map that he had promised to Jane and Pobbles before they had gone away to the seaside. This was part of a game they had invented, sitting in their log cabin one wet afternoon. Harry was by no means above games that were no more than games, though he was too old to turn reality into a game, and this was a fascinating one that they had hit upon together—the designing of the ideal island upon which the vicissitudes of life might one day cause them all to be wrecked. ”

“ Come and sit by me on my poor throne, Jane, and we'll talk about him."
They sat side by side. Jane nestled to her with her arm around her waist, and for a time they said nothing. The sunlight fell upon them, filtering through the interlaced branches, as they sat still in a contact which was a solace to both of them. Grief does not set abiding marks upon the young. But for the traces of her tears Viola was as fresh and fair as when she had sat there for Harry to worship her. ”

“ Harry had never feared death, and now he no longer feared life in any of its unfamiliar aspects, but embraced it with all the ardour of his youth, and with it the happiness it had in store for him when the great confusion should be smoothed out. ”

“ They laughed again at that, and the girl threw a glance at him, walking by her side, while Circe, held by his strong brown hand, curveted on the close turf and the dogs ranged here and there, a little subdued from their bounding energy, but still keenly interested in all that lay about them. The raindrops sparkled still upon gorse and grass and bramble, larks sang in the clear spaces of the sky, and the dying wind brought a salty thymy fragrance with it. The blood in the veins thrilled to the sweet glad freshness of it all, and youth called to youth as they trod the springy turf together. ”