That moment then she seemed to see it so and with a later vision beheld the woman stepping out from underneath the shadows of the wood, leading a faun, so young his feet seemed scarcely touching the grass he walked upon.
Her sewing fluttered to her lap. In that midsummer heat, her eyes half closed, then opened, startled at the sound of solid footsteps by her side. She looked up and there stood Liddiard, his hat in his hand, a nervous smile upon his lips. She was too taken unawares to fathom them.
"Am I dreaming?" she muttered.
"You were asleep," said he.
"But this isn't dreaming?"
"No--you're awake now."
"Why--? What is it? Why have you come here?"
"To see you."
"After all these years?"
"Twelve of them."