the peak--neither of us talking over the
matter again. It was uncanny, that
rivalry--sun and wind in one spot, sun
and wind in another--Nature herself
casting the fate of a half-crazed fool
with a flower. It was utterly absurd,
but I got nervous over it--apprehensive,
dismal.

A week later it rained for two days,
and the water was high. The next
day the sun shone, and that afternoon
Grayson smiled, looking through the
glass, and handed it to me. I knew
what I should see. One purple cluster,
full blown, was shaking in the wind.
Grayson was leaning back in a dream
when I let the glass down. A cool
breath from the woods behind us
brought the odor of roots and of black
earth; up in the leaves and sunlight
somewhere a wood-thrush was singing,
and I saw in Grayson's face what
I had not seen for a long time, and
that was peace--the peace of stubborn
purpose. He did not come
for me the next day, nor the next;
but the next he did, earlier than
usual.