Tell them there is no fault in him, and that he will return to his own people in his own time, but that I, Fleda Druse, will never return--never! Now, get you gone from here." The sunlight broke through the trees, and fell in a narrow path of light upon the doorway.

A little grey bird fluttered into the radiance and came tripping across the threshold; a whippoorwill called in the ashtrees; and the sweet smell of the thick woodland, of the bracken and fern, crept into the room.

The balm of a perfect evening of Summer was upon the face of nature.

The world seemed untroubled and serene; but in this hidden but two stormy spirits broke the peace to which the place and the time were all entitled.
After Fleda's scornful words of release and dismissal, Jethro stood for a moment confounded and dismayed.

He had not reckoned with this.