"If you had written to me then in New York—"
"I felt that. But there is something—don't you know there is something?—that guides us.... I lay one night thinking of Sweet Rocket. I could always come back here, just as really—come back from the ends of the earth! I came back often. There has always been, along the garden wall, sweet rocket—dame's violet, you know. Some of it is white and some is purple—shining clusters growing above your waist. I could gather them in my arms and feel them against my cheek. I could get into the dark cedars that come up from the river. I lay in Richmond, more than half feeling, more than half seeing.... There's a country, you know, out of which things come down to you.... It came down—knowledge! I meant to go back to Sweet Rocket."
She paused. "Look at that tree—"
"It is so splendid! A sugar maple, isn't it? And that one?"
"Mountain linden. It puts on a clear, pale gold, like the old saints' haloes."
"I hear water."
"It is the little stream that we cross. See how sweet and clear and sounding it goes! Hemlock Run. All right, Daniel!"
Daniel bent mouth to water and drank.
"No check rein?"
"No."