Kurt Dorn had indeed no hope of ever seeing Lenore Anderson again, and he suffered a pang that seemed to leave his heart numb, though Anderson's timely visit might turn out as providential as the saving rain-storm.

The wheat waved and rustled as if with renewed and bursting life.

The exquisite rainbow still shone, a beautiful promise, in the sky.

But Dorn could not be happy in that moment.
This day Lenore Anderson had seemed a bewildering fulfilment of the sweetness he had imagined was latent in her.

She had meant what was beyond him to understand.