“Yes,” answered Iris, but her voice sounded far away and her eyes filled.
Late afternoon flooded the earth with gold, and from distant fields came the drowsy hum and whir of the fairy folk with melodious wings. The birds sang cheerily, butterflies floated in the fragrant air, and it was difficult to believe that in all the world there was such a thing as Death.
“I’m not going to let you go any farther,” said Lynn. “You’ll be tired.”
“No, I won’t, and besides, I want to see the marsh.”
“My dear girl, you couldn’t see it—you could only stand on the edge of it.”
“Well, I’ll stand on the edge of it, then,” said Iris, stubbornly. “I’ve come this far, and I’m going to see it.”
“Suppose we climb that hill yonder,” suggested Lynn. “It overlooks the marsh.”
“That will do,” returned Iris. “I’m willing to climb now, though I wasn’t when we started.”
At first, Lynn walked by her side, warning her to go slowly, then he took her hand to help her. When they reached the summit, he had his arm around her, and it was some minutes before it occurred to him to take it away.