I had never begun to understand it before this evening--never once had thanked her. Mother, mother!---- The copse was full of her. Her figure went before me between the bare larch boles, taking care not to tread on flowers. The ground was a sheet of blue when we had last come here. The time of wild hyacinths was nearly over now. And her time---- Was that nearly over too? Where would she be when the foxgloves stood tall here among the bracken? The larch stems wavered and the hazels shivered. The man was on in front now, the first to cross the outermost stile. As I hurried after him, he looked back. I did not know until I met his eyes that mine were wet ... and that I was walking not quite steadily. I had run a long way that evening. "Rest a moment," he said; and he looked away from me and up at the flowering may. "The scent is very heavy," he said. "I knew a woman once who was always made faint by it." He did not look at me again. But I had seen that those hard eyes could look kind. * * * * * Now we could see the red tile roof. Underneath it what was happening? I had been long gone, for all my running. As we came across the links, the sun went down behind the wall of Duncombe garden. Oh, sun! I prayed, do not go down for ever. * * * * * Before I entered the house a strange thing happened. A great peace fell on me. I knew, without asking, that all was well. Was that a blackcap singing? And had I seen the sun go down? What magic light was this, then, that was shining on the world? * * * * * He saw my mother, and told us what to do. Bettina stayed with her, while I came down with Mr. Annan to hear his verdict. As we stood in the lower hall, I looked up to find his eyes on me--eyes suddenly so gentle that terror fell on me afresh. "You don't think she is going to die?" "Good nursing," he said, "will make a difference. One must always hope----" "Oh, you must save us!" I said incoherently; and then corrected: "My mother!..." He seemed to accept the charge. He would come back early in the morning. * * * * * I never found the bridge between that passion of dread about my mother's life--and the strange new passion that took possession of me, body and soul. Like the dart of a kingfisher out of the shade of a thicket into intensest sunshine, the new thing flashed across my life, all emerald and red-gold and azure--a blinding iridescence, and a quickness that was like the quickness of God. CHAPTER IX ERIC For a long time I said nothing in his presence, except in answer to some direction. There seemed no need to talk. Enough for me to see him come striding across the links; to watch him walk into my mother's room; to see a certain look come into his eyes. It came so seldom that sometimes I told myself I must have dreamed it. Then it would come again.