The stream itself, where it crossed the road, flowed murmuring over a bed of loose blue slate pebbles, but both above and below this place forced its way, almost invisible, through a dense oak wood, deeply tangled with undergrowth.
A stone foot-bridge spanned the stream, and having reached this, it seemed as if she had come to her journey's end.

For leaning on the rail she began looking into the water below, though starting and looking round at every sound.
She was waiting for some one.

A pleasant place this to wait in.

So dark, so hemmed in with trees, and the road so little used; spring was early here, and the boughs were getting quite dense already.

How pleasant to see the broad red moon go up behind the feathery branches, and listen to the evensong of the thrush, just departing to roost, and leaving the field clear for the woodlark all night.