“Indeed, I would; just for remembrance, to say we have been here together. Let us take a drink in remembrance.”
They both drank from a cup made of leaves—both of the same cup—“the water of life,” as Adele called it; and as they drank a bird flew down from its nest, perched itself on a rock near the cascade above them, and drank also; a little bird with a red breast. They did not see the bird, emblem of suffering unto death for others, and only took a drop or two themselves, for verily the realities of life made the glen damp and cold, yet the thought symbolized by the bird was ever with them and the moment precious.
“I should like to drink that water always,” said Adele.
“Always is a long time.”
“Well, I did not mean exactly that—until——”
The Doctor waited.
“Well, if I must tell you, until the resurrection.”
“I trust we may,” said he solemnly.
They understood each other perfectly, and after a pause, while the robin sang a morning hymn, they continued their walk.
Drops of rain began to fall upon the tree-tops. Adele and the Doctor caught the sound.