How sweet the air, how like a benediction the song of birds.

Neither of us looked back, and I held her close against me as we moved onward, past the big tree, and down the long slope.

It was a wondrous view of peace and beauty, the broad green valley, with the silver thread of water shining in its center--the valley of the Bureau.
We followed the faint trail, which wound in and out among small copses of trees; the sun began to brighten the far east and her hand stole into mine.

The light was upon her face, and gave me a glimpse of the sadness of her eyes.

Beyond a little grove we found some horses browsing in the deep grass; they were those that had brought us from Yellow Banks, and whinnied a greeting as we drew near.