I shall have hints of you in the sea-wind and the sound of the sea; in the perfume of autumn woods, in the whisper of stirring leaves when the white birches put on their gold crowns next year." She smiled, turning to him, a little gravely: "When the Lesser Children return with April, I shall not forget you, Mr.Siward, nor forget your mercy of a day on them; nor your comradeship, nor your sweetness to me.

...

Nor your charity for me, nor all that you overlook so far in me,--under the glamour of a spell that seems to hold you still, and that still holds me.

...

I can answer for my constancy so far, until one more spring and summer have come and gone--until one more autumn comes, and while it lasts--as long as any semblance of the setting remains which had once framed you; I can answer for my constancy as long as that.