The path wound among massive trees, between whose branches patches of moonlight filtered.
Around the lake shore and climbing the hill were thickets of bushes.
The water lay shining in the light, a gentle wind ruffled the surface in undulant waves, and on the opposite bank arose the line of big trees.

Under a giant oak widely branching, on the top of the hill, the Harvester spread the rug and held one end of it against the tree trunk to protect the Girl's dress.

Then he sat a little distance away and began to talk.

He mingled some sense with a quantity of nonsense, and appreciated every hint of a laugh he heard.

The day had been no amusing matter for a girl absolutely alone among strange people and scenes.
Anything more foreign to her previous environment or expectations he could not imagine.