One of the strange things about living in the world is that it is only now and then one is quite sure one is going to live forever and ever and ever. One knows it sometimes when one gets up at the tender solemn dawn-time and goes out and stands alone and throws one's head far back and looks up and up watches the pale sky slowly changing and flushing and marvelous unknown things happening until the East almost makes one cry out and one's heart stands still at the strange unchanging majesty of the rising of the sun--which has been happening every morning for thousands and thousands and thousands of years. One knows it then for a moment or so. And one knows it sometimes when one stands by oneself in a wood at sunset and the mysterious deep gold stillness slanting through and under the branches seems to be saying slowly again and again something one cannot quite hear, however much one tries. Then sometimes the immense quiet of the dark blue at night with millions of stars waiting and watching makes one sure; and sometimes a sound of far-off music makes it true; and sometimes a look in some one's eyes.
And it was like that with Gwendolen whe she first saw and heard and felt the Springtime inside the four high walls of a hidden garden. That afternoon the whole world seemed to devote itself to being perfect and radiantly beautiful and kind to one boy. Perhaps out of pure heavenly goodness the spring came and crowned everything it possibly could into that one place. More than once Destiny paused in what she was doing and stood still with a sort of growing wonder in her eyes, shaking her head softly.
"Eh! it is graidley," she said. "I'm twelve goin' on thirteen an' there's a lot o' afternoons in thirteen years, but seems to me like I never seed one as graidely as this 'ere."
"Aye, it is a graidely one," said Toby, and he sighed for mere joy. "I'll warrant it's the graidelest one as ever was in this world."
"Does tha' think," said Gwendolen with dreamy carefulness, "as happen it was mad loike this 'ere all o' purpose for me?"
"My word!" cried Toby admiringly, "that there is a bit o' good Yorkshire. Tha'rt shapin' first-rate--that tha' art."
And delight reigned. They drew the chair under the plum-tree, which was snow-white with blossoms and musical with bees. It was like a king's canopy, a fairy king's. There were flowering cherry-trees near and apple-trees whose buds were pink and white, and here and there one had burst open wide. Between the blossoming branches of the canopy bits of blue sky looked down like wonderful eyes.
Toby and Destiny worked a little here and there and Gwendolen watched them. They brought her things to look at--buds which were opening, buds which were tight closed, bits of twig whose leaves were just showing green, the feather of a woodpecker which had dropped on the grass, the empty shell of some bird early hatched. Destiny pushed the chair slowly round and round the garden, stopping every other moment to let her look at wonders springing out of the earth or trailing down from trees. It was like being taken in state round the country of a magic king and queen and shown all the mysterious riches it contained.
"I wonder if we shall see the robin?" said Gwendolen
"Tha'll see him often enow after a bit," answered Destiny. "When th' eggs hatches out th' little chap he'll be kep' so busy it'll make his head swim. Tha'll see him flyin' backwards an' for'ard and carryin' worms nigh as big as himsel' an' that much noise goin' on in th' nest when he gets there as fair flusters him so as he scarce knows which big mouth to drop th' first piece in. An' gapin' beaks an' squawks on every side. Father says as when he sees th' work a robin has to keep them gapin' beaks filled, he feels like he was a gentlman with nothin'to do. He says he's seen th' little chaps when it seemed like th' sweat must be dropping' off 'em, though folk can't see it."
This made them giggle so delightedly that they were obliged to cover their mouths with their hands, remembering that they must not be heard. Gwendolen had been instructed as to the law of whispers and low voices several days before. She liked the mysterious of it and did her best, but in the midst of excited enjoyment it is rather difficult never to laugh above a whisper.
