Caius sat with Day for two hours, and Josephine did not come down to speak to him.

He was glad to know that Day's evening passed the more easily because he sat there with him; he was glad of that when he was glad of nothing that concerned himself.
Day and Caius did not talk about death or sorrow, or anything like that.
All the remarks that they interchanged turned upon the horses Day was rearing and their pastures.

Day told that he had found the grass on the little island rich.
"I remember finding two of your colts there one day when I explored it.
It was four years ago," said Caius dreamily.
Day took no interest in this lapse of time.
"It's an untidy bit of land," he said, "and I can't clear it.

'Tisn't mine; but no one heeds the colts grazing." "Do you swim them across ?" asked Caius, half in polite interest, half because his memory was wandering upon the water.
"They got so sharp at swimming, I had to raise the fence on the top of the cliff," said Day.
The evening wore away.
In the morning Caius, smitten with the fever of hope and fear, rose up at dawn, and, as in a former time he had been wont to do, ran to the seashore by the nearest path and walked beside the edge of the waves.
He turned, as he had always done, towards the little island and the Day Farm.
How well he knew every outward curve and indentation of the soft red shelving bank! how well he knew the colouring of the cool scene in the rising day, the iridescent light upon the lapping waves, the glistening of the jasper red of the damp beach, and the earthen pinks of the upper cliffs! The sea birds with low pathetic note called out to him concerning their memories of the first dawn in which he had walked there searching for the body of the dead baby.

Then the cool tints of dawn passed into the golden sunrise, and the birds went on calling to him concerning the many times in which he had trodden this path as a lover whose mistress had seemed so strange a denizen of this same wide sea.
Caius did not think with scorn now of this old puzzle and bewilderment, but remembered it fondly, and went and sat beneath baby Day's epitaph, on the very rock from which he had first seen Josephine.