Presently they came to the pool. Viola caught her breath and gave a little shiver as she stood on its brink. The sun had gone behind the clouds, and the waters were cold and steely, but there was no wind, and they reflected as in a mirror the bare trees, which had once been arrassed with their leafy tapestry, to close in this hidden temple. "It’s not the same," she said. "It isn’t secret any more. I wish I hadn’t come." She turned, and there was the great tree, with the jutting roots under its spreading canopy upon which she had sat as a queen crowned by Harry’s adoring love. She seemed to recoil, and gave a cry which echoed forlornly through the naked woods. Then she sank on to the ground beside the mossed roots crying, "Oh, Harry! My darling! Oh, my darling!" The suddenness of it had brought Jane’s heart to her mouth. Viola was sobbing as if her heart would break. It was the first time Jane had seen her abandon herself to her despairing grief. Her own love and sorrow welled up in her. She knelt beside Viola, embracing her as she lay there, and mingling her tears with hers, but not speaking. For a long time both of them wept together. Viola’s sobs decreased in violence, but she cried piteously and forlornly. "Oh, Harry, I do want you so," she sobbed. "Why have you gone away from me?" Jane rose to her knees. Viola, still lying against the roots, with her head buried on her arm, caught her hand and held it. The pressure thrilled Jane through and through. She could console, in this unconsolable grief. She felt as if it were a trust from Harry to do so. Viola was not quite alone in the world, if she could still cling to her in her bitter trouble. She bent down again and kissed her, and Viola’s arms went round her neck. "Don’t cry any more," she said through her own falling tears. "Harry hasn’t left you. He’s alive and happy. Perhaps he’s looking at us now. He loves you as much as you love him." Viola’s sobs ceased for the moment. "He did," she said. "Oh, if I knew he loved me still I could bear never seeing him any more. But he’s dead. They killed Harry, Jane. Can you believe it? My darling Harry! He kissed me here when he was alive and we talked and talked such a little time ago. I can hear him now this very minute and feel him by me. But he is dead. I must keep on saying it or I can’t believe it. Harry is dead." Her sobs broke out afresh. Jane rose to her feet, "No," she said, with a solemn look on her child’s face. "Harry isn’t dead. He won’t like to see you giving way like that. Just for a time you can’t help it, I know; but you’ve cried enough. Get up now, Viola, and let’s talk about Harry." Viola arose obediently, and dried her eyes. "I’ve always tried to be brave," she said, "because I knew Harry would like it. He wouldn’t have gone away from me if he could have helped it. I’m sorry I said what I did just now, but it was too much for me seeing this place. I shan’t come here again. Let’s go away."