Meadows of sunset afterlight were behind the westerning hills.
Before them was the shining harbour.

A bell was ringing in the little church over-harbour and the lingering dream-notes died around the dim, amethystine points.

The gulf beyond was still silvery blue in the afterlight.

Oh, it was all glorious--the clear air with its salt tang, the balsam of the firs, the laughter of her friends.

Rilla loved life--its bloom and brilliance; she loved the ripple of music, the hum of merry conversation; she wanted to walk on forever over this road of silver and shadow.