IN WHICH SPRING COMES TO THE MOUNTAINS, AND CASSANDRA TELLS DAVID OF HER FATHER

Ere long such a spring as David had never dreamed of swept up the mountain, with a charm so surpassing and transcending any imagined beauty that he was filled with a sort of ecstasy. He was constantly out upon the hills revelling in the lavish bounty of earth and sky, of rushing waters, and all the subtile changes in growing things, as if at last he had been clasped to the heart of nature. He visited the cabins wherever he was called, and when there was need for Cassandra’s ministrations he often took her with him; thus they fell naturally into good camaraderie. Thus, also, quite as naturally, Cassandra’s speech became more correct and fluent, even while it lost none of its lingering delicacy of intonation.