She went away and left us together.
'You are growing too tall to be called my little wife, Philippa,' she said, and I laughed at his gravity.

We were standing underneath a great flowering lilac-tree--the green leaves and the sweet flowers were still wet with the rain.

I remember it so well! I drew one of the tall fragrant sprays down, and shaking the rain-drops from it, kissed it.

I can smell the rich, moist odor now.

I never see a lilac-spray or smell its sweet moisture after rain but that the whole scene rises before me again--I see the proud, handsome face that I love so dearly, the clear skies and the green trees.