Gabriella began to watch. The last time she had gone to see him, as he walked part of the way back with her, he had said:—
"I am well now; the next time I am coming to see YOU."
Soon, along the edge of the orchard from the direction of the house, she saw him walking slowly toward her, thin, gaunt; he was leaning on a rough, stout hickory, as long as himself, in the manner of an old man.
She rose quickly and hastened to him. "Did you walk?"
"I rode. But I am walking now—barely. This young tree is escorting me."
They went back to her shawl, which she opened and spread, making a place for him. She moved it back a little, for safety, so that it was under the boughs of one of the trees.
How quiet the land was, how beautiful the evening light, how sweet the air!
Now and then a petal from some finished blossom sifted down on Gabriella.
They were at such peace: their talk was interrupted by the long silences which are peace.
"Gabriella, you saved my life."