“Ah, we’ll do it really one day, we must.  And it’ll be ever so much easier then, after you’ve seen it once to-day.”

“No, no!  I never can, I know.”

“Wait and see,” said he.  “Now you know what a grand life it is in the forest in winter.  A glorious life—­though there’s trouble, too, at times—­danger and hurt; but who cares for that?  Do you wonder that I’m always in high spirits when I come home?  And when I am here, why, ’tis just like another little world, as clean and fresh as there....  Daisy—­sit here, and let me look at you.”

The girl sat down on his knee and rested one hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she said softly.  “I’m not a bit clever, I know.  Just nothing—­to you.”

“You don’t know a bit what you are—­but I do.  And shall I tell you, just for once, what you are to me?”

The girl laughed happily.  “If you’ll be sure and only tell the truth!”

“The truth—­of course!  How could I help it?  Now, listen.  Once I was in a big town, where there was a picture gallery, and lots of marble statues—­like the old Greeks used to make.  You’ve read about them, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I think so.  But I’ve never seen them.”

“Well, there were lots of these statues, white as snow, and looking just like life.  And they were all naked, with never a rag to cover them, but for all that one could look at them, as calm and pure as on the face of God.  For they were so beautiful that one could think of nothing but the sacred beauty God has given to the human form.  And—­can you guess what I’m going to say now?”

“How should I guess?” said the girl, looking down shyly, as if with some inkling she would not confess of what was in his mind.

“Just this—­you are like that to me:  a marble statue, white and cool, with a beauty that is holy in itself.  And I thank God that made you so beautiful and pure.”

“Now you’re laughing at me again,” said the girl sadly.

“’Tis solemn earnest.  Listen.  Ask yourself, in the time we’ve been together here, have we ever exchanged a single kiss, a single touch, with any thought of passion?”

“Passion?” The girl’s eyes looked frankly into his.

“Yes....  It might have been, you know.  I am passionate by nature, but when I look at you, it cools and dies.  I am telling you the truth when I say you have been like a healing, cooling draught to one in a fever.  And I believe you have changed me altogether, now and for ever after.”

“I don’t think I understand—­not all of it.  But have you really been so happy?”

“So unspeakably happy.  Yes.  And glad to feel myself strong and self-restrained.  I have often thought that no one could ever dream what happiness and beauty can live in one little grey village.  Do you know what I think?  I believe that in every little grey village there is a quiet, secret happiness, that no one knows.”