What a child she was -- what a beautiful , ignorant child , utterly unskilled in the art of hiding her feelings ! But why should she hide them ? They were as pure and beautiful as herself . Eric smiled back at her with equal frankness . `` I should like it more than I can say , and I shall be sure to come to-morrow evening if it is fine . But if it is at all damp or unpleasant you must not come . In that case another evening will do . And now wo n't you give me some flowers ? '' She nodded , with another little smile , and began to pick some of the June lilies , carefully selecting the most perfect among them . He watched her lithe , graceful motions with delight ; every movement seemed poetry itself . She looked like a very incarnation of Spring -- as if all the shimmer of young leaves and glow of young mornings and evanescent sweetness of young blossoms in a thousand springs had been embodied in her . When she came to him , radiant , her hands full of the lilies , a couplet from a favourite poem darted into his head -- `` A blossom vermeil white That lightly breaks a faded flower sheath , Here , by God 's rood , is the one maid for me . '' The next moment he was angry with himself for his folly . She was , after all , nothing but a child -- and a child set apart from her fellow creatures by her sad defect . He must not let himself think nonsense . `` Thank you . These June lilies are the sweetest flowers the spring brings us . Do you know that their real name is the white narcissus ? '' She looked pleased and interested . `` No , I did not know , '' she wrote .
`` I have often read of the white narcissus and wondered what it was XXXXX .
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