If it does, I hope it will make her cheeks just the lovely pink of the bloom.

Oh Lord! If only she hadn't appeared so sick and frightened! What is there in all this world of sunshine to make a girl glance around her like that?
I wish I knew! Maybe they will have found her by night." The Harvester began work on the bed, but he knelt and among the damp leaves from the spongy black earth he lifted the roots with his fingers and carefully straightened and pressed down the plants he did not take.
This required more time than usual, but his heart was so sore he could not be rough with anything, most of all a flower.

So he harvested the wild alum by hand, and heaped large stacks of roots around the edges of the bed.

Often he paused as he worked and on his knees stared through the forest as if he hoped perhaps she would realize his longing for her, and come to him in the wood as she had across the water.

Over and over he repeated, "Perhaps they will find her by night!" and that so intensified the meaning that once he said it aloud.