Reading, for me, is entertainment and an escape from the real world. But it can also inform and stretch the boundaries of the life I live.
This has to be one of the sweetest romantic scenes I've ever read.
Mount Dunstan turned and looked at her - a pause in his step - they were walking down a turfed path, and over their heads meeting branches of new leaves hung. Something in his movement made her turn and pause also. They both paused - and quite unknowingly.
"Do you know," he said, in a low and rather unusual voice, "that as we were on our way here, I said of you to Penzance, that you were Life - you!"
For a few seconds, as they stood so, his look held her - their eyes involuntarily and strangely held each other. Something softly glowing in the sunlight falling on them both, something raining down in the song of a rising skylark trilling in the blue a field away, something in the warmed incense of blossoms near them, was calling - calling in the Voice, though they did not know they heard. Strangely, a splendid blush rose in a fair flood under her skin. She was conscious of it, and felt a second's amazed impatience that she should colour like a schoolgirl suspecting a compliment. He did not look at her as a man looks who has made a pretty speech. His eyes met hers straight and thoughtfully, and he repeated his last words as he had before repeated hers.
"That you were Life - you!"
The bluebells under water were for the moment incredibly lovely. Her feeling about the blush melted away as the blush itself had done.
"I am glad you say that!" she answered. "it was a beautiful thing to say. I have often thought that I should like it to be true."
"It is true," he said.
Then the skylark, showering golden rain, swept down to earth and its nest in the meadow, and they walked on.