They hardly spoke, and when the meal was over and Theresa had done what household tasks she could, she went out to the horse-block and sat there. Behind her there were violets growing in the little garden, and they sent their sweetness up to her for comfort, and around were the hills, assuring her of life's loveliness and truth. The world was coloured with brilliant greens and blues, veiled by the passing winds; the earth smelt of dampness and of growth; every tree and bush was budding, and the streams were roaring with the energy of spring; the impulse of all living things was leaping towards the sun; the voices of wind, and water, and singing trees, and of the sheep bleating on the hills, were praising life and the life-giver, while upstairs her father's hands had stiffened in the fold of death. She tried to teach herself that he was dead, but to that lesson she was dull and deaf. She felt him near her in every brushing of the wind and every scratching sound of the rose branches on the porch, so that she could only shake her head and say he lived. She looked up at the sound of footsteps, and saw Alexander in the lane. "Will you come with me a little way," he said, "while it's still early? Soon there will be people I'll have to see, and things to do. We'll both be wanted, but now, while the world's so fresh and empty, can we be together?" She slipped from the horse-block and stood beside him. "Which way?" she said. "To the Broad Beck, but not under the trees. I want the sun." They followed the grassy track and struck across the new green of the bracken to the stream that rioted among the rocks, teasing itself into foam, lashing itself into waterfalls, or lying in still pools. By one of these, on a broad slab of stone, Theresa and Alexander halted. The sun struck on the water and on them; it gilded the purple of Theresa's gown until it was illuminated like a missal; it found the lurking red in Alexander's hair, it turned hers to flame, and to each one it showed the suffering of the other. "Theresa," he said, "the sun is shining. You said you would tell me in the sunshine, but if you cannot I will wait." "No, I must tell you, because I said so, and because you must not blame yourself." She held her hands behind her back, twisting them there, and she looked up at him, frowning a little, with a rare appeal in her unflinching eyes. "He always wanted us to meet," she said. "I believe he did this so that we might meet." "And we had met." "But then, I did not tell him." "Why did you not?"