His heart was very tender as he lifted the earth, and threw it into the tops of the big bags he had propped open.
"I'll line it with a couple of sheets and finish the edge with pond lilies and ferns," he planned, "and I'll drag this earth from sight, and cover it with brush until I need it." Sometimes he paused in his work to rest a few minutes and then he stood and glanced around him.

Several times he went down the hill and slipped close to a window, but he could not hear a sound.

When his work was finished, he stood before the oak, scraping clinging earth from the mattock with which he had cut roots he had been compelled to remove.
He was tired now and he thought he would go to his room and sleep until daybreak.

As he turned the implement he remembered how through it he had found her, and now he was using it in her service.

He smiled as he worked, and half listened to the steady roll of sound encompassing him.
A cool breath swept from the lake and he wondered if it found her wet, hot cheek.