It seems so long ago now , here in the night . '' Neither of us ever forgot the subtle delight of that stolen walk . A spell of glamour was over us . The breezes whispered strange secrets of elf-haunted glens , and the hollows where the ferns grew were brimmed with mystery and romance . Ghostlike scents crept out of the meadows to meet us , and the fir wood before we came to the church was a living sweetness of Junebells growing in abundance . Junebells have another and more scientific name , of course . But who could desire a better name than Junebells ? They are so perfect in their way that they seem to epitomize the very scent and charm of the forest , as if the old wood 's daintiest thoughts had materialized in blossom ; and not all the roses by Bendameer 's stream are as fragrant as a shallow sheet of Junebells under the boughs of fir . There were fireflies abroad that night , too , increasing the gramarye of it . There is certainly something a little supernatural about fireflies . Nobody pretends to understand them . They are akin to the tribes of fairy , survivals of the elder time when the woods and hills swarmed with the little green folk . It is still very easy to believe in fairies when you see those goblin lanterns glimmering among the fir tassels . `` Is n't it beautiful ? '' said the Story Girl in rapture . `` I would n't have missed it for anything . I 'm glad I left my necklace . And I am glad you are with me , Bev . The others would n't understand so well . I like you because I do n't have to talk to you all the time .
It 's so nice to walk with someone you do n't have to XXXXX to .
came desire glimmering grew increasing meet missed said talk whispered