d; the cattle were noiseless under
the trees; there were no owls calling, no night-jars churring, the
fly-by-night chafers were not abroad. The stream alone was alive in
the quiet darkness. And as Miltoun followed the wispy line of grey path
cleaving the dim glamour of daisies and buttercups, there came to him
the feeling that he was in the presence, not of sleep, but of eternal
waiting. The sound of his footfalls seemed desecration. So devotional
was that hush, burning the spicy incense of millions of leaves and
blades of grass.

Crossing the last stile he came out, close to her deserted cottage,
under her lime-tree, which on the night of Courtier's adventure had hung
blue-black round the moon. On that side, only a rail, and a few shrubs
confined her garden.

The house was all dark, but the many tall white flowers, like a bright
vapour rising from earth, clung to the air above the beds. Leaning
against the tree Miltoun gave himself to memory.

From the silent boughs which drooped round his dark figure, a little
sleepy bird uttered a faint cheep; a hedgehog, or some small beast of
night, rustled away in the grass close by; a moth flew past, seeking
its candle flame. And something in Miltoun's heart took wings after it,
searching for the warmth and light of his blown candle of love. Then,
in the hush he heard a sound as of a branch ceaselessly trailed through
long grass, fainter and fainter, more and more distinct; again fainter;
but nothing could he see that should make that homeless sound. And the
sense of some near but unseen presence crept on him, till the hair moved
on his scalp. If God would light the moon or stars, and let him see! If
God would end the expectation of this night, let one wan glimmer down
into her garden, and one wan glimmer into his breast! But it stayed
dark, and the homeless noise never ceased. The weird thought came to
Miltoun that it was made by his own heart, wandering out there, trying
to feel warm again. He closed his eyes and at once knew that it was not
his heart, but indeed some external presence, unconsoled. And stretching
his hands out he moved forward to arrest that sound. As he reached the
railing, it ceased. And he saw a flame leap up, a pale broad pathway of
light blanching the grass.

And, realizing that she was there, within, he gasped. His fingernails
bent and broke against the iron railing without his knowing. It was not
as on that night when the red flowers on her windowsil