Very gently and quietly, almost as if it were the blood singing in her veins, or the water of the stream running over stones, Rachel became conscious of a new feeling within her.  She wondered for a moment what it was, and then said to herself, with a little surprise at recognising in her own person so famous a thing: 

“This is happiness, I suppose.”  And aloud to Terence she spoke, “This is happiness.”

On the heels of her words he answered, “This is happiness,” upon which they guessed that the feeling had sprung in both of them the same time.  They began therefore to describe how this felt and that felt, how like it was and yet how different; for they were very different.

Voices crying behind them never reached through the waters in which they were now sunk.  The repetition of Hewet’s name in short, dissevered syllables was to them the crack of a dry branch or the laughter of a bird.  The grasses and breezes sounding and murmuring all round them, they never noticed that the swishing of the grasses grew louder and louder, and did not cease with the lapse of the breeze.  A hand dropped abrupt as iron on Rachel’s shoulder; it might have been a bolt from heaven.  She fell beneath it, and the grass whipped across her eyes and filled her mouth and ears.  Through the waving stems she saw a figure, large and shapeless against the sky.  Helen was upon her.  Rolled this way and that, now seeing only forests of green, and now the high blue heaven; she was speechless and almost without sense.  At last she lay still, all the grasses shaken round her and before her by her panting.  Over her loomed two great heads, the heads of a man and woman, of Terence and Helen.

Both were flushed, both laughing, and the lips were moving; they came together and kissed in the air above her.  Broken fragments of speech came down to her on the ground.  She thought she heard them speak of love and then of marriage.  Raising herself and sitting up, she too realised Helen’s soft body, the strong and hospitable arms, and happiness swelling and breaking in one vast wave.  When this fell away, and the grasses once more lay low, and the sky became horizontal, and the earth rolled out flat on each side, and the trees stood upright, she was the first to perceive a little row of human figures standing patiently in the distance.  For the moment she could not remember who they were.

“Who are they?” she asked, and then recollected.

Falling into line behind Mr. Flushing, they were careful to leave at least three yards’ distance between the toe of his boot and the rim of her skirt.

He led them across a stretch of green by the river-bank and then through a grove of trees, and bade them remark the signs of human habitation, the blackened grass, the charred tree-stumps, and there, through the trees, strange wooden nests, drawn together in an arch where the trees drew apart, the village which was the goal of their journey.