At the appointed time they started, and Margaret waved her hand at them as they went down the path. Iris was so thin and fragile that it seemed as if any passing wind might blow her away. Lynn was very careful and considerate.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked.
“I don’t care; I don’t want to climb, though. Let’s keep on level ground.”
“Very well, but where? Which way?”
Iris felt the stiff corner of the letter hidden in her gown. “Let’s go up the river,” she said. “I’ve never been there and I’d like to go.”
So they followed the course of the stream, and the fresh air brought a faint colour into her cheeks. As the giant of old gained strength from his mother earth, Iris revived in the sunshine. The long period of inactivity demanded exertion to balance it.
“It is lovely,” she said. “It seems good to be moving around again.”
“I’ll take you every day,” returned Lynn, “if you’ll only come. I want to see you happy again.”
“I shall never be as happy as I was,” she sighed. “No one is the same after a sorrow like mine.”