And at the glow in her Felix glowed too.  What is so infectious as delight?  They sat a long time talking, as they had not talked since the first fatal visit to Becket.  Of how love, and mountains, works of art, and doing things for others were the only sources of happiness; except scents, and lying on one’s back looking through tree-tops at the sky; and tea, and sunlight, flowers, and hard exercise; oh, and the sea!  Of how, when things went hard, one prayed—­but what did one pray to?  Was it not to something in oneself?  It was of no use to pray to the great mysterious Force that made one thing a cabbage, and the other a king; for That could obviously not be weak-minded enough to attend.  And gradually little pauses began to creep into their talk; then a big pause, and Nedda, who would never want to sleep again, was fast asleep.

Felix watched those long, dark lashes resting on her cheeks; the slow, soft rise of her breast; the touching look of trust and goodness in that young face abandoned to oblivion after these hours of stress; watched the little tired shadows under the eyes, the tremors of the just-parted lips.  And, getting up, stealthy as a cat, he found a light rug, and ever more stealthily laid it over her.  She stirred at that, smiled up at him, and instantly went off again.  And he thought:  ‘Poor little sweetheart, she was tired!’ And a passionate desire to guard her from trials and troubles came on him.

At four o’clock Kirsteen slipped in again, and whispered:  “She made me promise to come for her.  How pretty she looks, sleeping!”

“Yes,” Felix answered; “pretty and good!”

Nedda raised her head, stared up at her aunt, and a delighted smile spread over her face.  “Is it time again?  How lovely!” Then, before either could speak or stop her, she was gone.

“She is more in love,” Kirsteen murmured, “than I ever saw a girl of her age.”

“She is more in love,” Felix answered, “than is good to see.”

“She is not truer than Derek is.”

“That may be, but she will suffer from him.”

“Women who love must always suffer.”

Her cheeks were sunken, shadowy; she looked very tired.  When she had gone to get some sleep, Felix restored the fire and put on a kettle, meaning to make himself some coffee.  Morning had broken, clear and sparkling after the long rain, and full of scent and song.  What glory equalled this early morning radiance, the dewy wonder of everything!  What hour of the day was such a web of youth and beauty as this, when all the stars from all the skies had fallen into the grass!  A cold nose was thrust into his hand, and he saw beside him Tod’s dog.  The animal was wet, and lightly moved his white-tipped tail; while his dark-yellow eyes inquired of Felix what he was going to give a dog to eat.  Then Felix saw his brother coming in.  Tod’s face was wild and absent as a man with all his thoughts turned on something painful in the distance.  His ruffled hair had lost its brightness; his eyes looked as if driven back into his head; he was splashed with mud, and wet from head to foot.  He walked up to the hearth without a word.