And looking down at the only home she had ever had, in moments long, sharp, dream-like, her strength was drained from, her as if by a fever, and she felt that she was changed all through and that each atom of her being was set, as it were, a little differently, making of her a new personality, through this shock of sudden hopelessness.
She felt her knees weak beneath her and she moved on slowly, away from the sun, to a lonely little wood that bordered the hill-top.

In her sudden weakness she climbed the paling that enclosed it with some difficulty, wondering if she were most inconveniently going to faint, and walking blindly along a narrow path, in the sudden cool and darkness, she dropped down on the moss at the first turning of the way.
Here, at last, was beauty.

The light, among the fanlike branches, looked like sea-water streaked with gold; the tall boles of the beeches were like the pillars of a temple sunken in the sea.

Helen lay back, folded her arms behind her head, and stared up at the chinks of far brightness in the green roof overhead.

It was like being drowned, deep beneath the surface of things.