The good-bys were said very quickly; they came about us with light laughter and good wishes and broke and parted into the wood again. The sun and the spring and the wind out of the south called them. I sent messages to Evarra, who stayed in the wood beyond River Ward to bury Lianth. Trastevera and some others came down the hill with us. When we had traveled rapidly for an hour they showed us the moon-shaped bay and the moon-white curve of the beach around it, and the point of cypress running far into the blue water. Later we could see the white specks of the houses, and then the close shouldering hills and the moss-hung pines, the oaks leaning all one way of the wind, and the sea-blue slopes of ceanothus. As we went our companions slipped from us, melted between sunny space and woody shadow, and mixed with the brown and green of the wood side. Now we saw bright regardful eyes and fingers laid on lips—who knew what men folk might be stirring? And now we felt to right or left the friendly presences. Finally, when we had been walking I do not know how long, suddenly there was only Herman and I in the wood, and no other. “Herman, Herman!” I said, “they are gone, we shall never see them again.” He looked and listened; nothing moved but the flicker of sun on a wind-stirred leaf or a winged insect in the green arcades of fern. Far back we heard the call of jays ending in a light high note of mocking laughter. “Herman, shall we never find them?” “Perhaps. Who knows? The trail is very plain here. If we take pains to notice it, we might come this way again.” “Yes, let us keep the trail at least. We must find the place again. They have not forbidden us.” We followed it close where it left the trees and ran in the grass between the blossoming lilacs. Wet folded poppies bent above it. “It was a good time we had with them. I cannot bear to think it will never come again.” “Yes, it was a good time. How long was it, Mona?” “How should I know? Do you remember, the first day we went in by Broken Tree there was the first spray of lilac blossoming?” “I remember.” “And now all the slopes are blue and the air too sweet with them. How long is that?” “A long time, I think. I was a professor of Sociology then.” “And what are you now?” “Something more, I hope. And—Mona, I think we are taking the best part of Outland away with us.” I agreed to that too, as we walked between the blue sprayed fountains of ceanothus, and felt the swing of the earth under us. “Are you happy, Mona?” “Yes. Though we have lost them, and I shall never walk alone in the wood again without hoping to find them. I am happy, but I do not know why.” “And have you quite forgiven me?” “For what, Herman? I have nothing to forgive you.” “For not being more, seeing more in the first place—for such a number of things. Have you—quite?” “Yes, quite.”