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Updated: May 6, 2025
As he sat revolving these questions the yew-branches seemed to stir, and from some deeper recess of shade a figure stole to his side. He started, but a hand was laid on his lips and he was gently forced back into his seat. Dazzled by the outer moonlight he could just guess the outline of the figure pressed against his own.
He lifted one of the great yew-branches and stepped beneath as if entering a tent. It fell behind him, and in the green gloom they were face to face. "Were you going without saying good-bye?" said Chris. She stood before him, very pale and quiet. Her eyes did not meet his quite fully. He spread out his hands. "I knew not if you would wish to see me."
Rousseau consoled himself with thoughts of another world that should reunite him to her and be the dawn of new happiness; like a man who should illusorily confound the last glistening of a wintry sunset seen through dark yew-branches, with the broad-beaming strength of the summer morning.
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