It was far more pleasant to sit on the sea shore, or under the greenwood trees, listening to such words than to pass long, dreary hours indoors.

And none of those intrusted with the care of the young girl ever dreamed of her danger.
So this was the love her mother dreaded so much.

This was the love poets sung of and novelists wrote about.

It was pleasant; but in after days, when Beatrice herself came to love, she knew that this had been but child's play.
It was the romance of the stolen meeting that charmed Beatrice.

If Hugh had been admitted to the Elms she would have wearied of him in a week; but the concealment gave her something to think of.