And through it streaked the golden shaft.

The valley seemed an enchanted circle of glorious veils of gold and wraiths of white and silver haze and dim, blue, moving shade--beautiful and wild and unreal as a dream.
"We--we can--th--think of it--always--re--remember," sobbed Bess.
"Hush! Don't cry.

Our valley has only fitted us for a better life somewhere.

Come!" They entered the gorge and he closed the willow gate.

From rosy, golden morning light they passed into cool, dense gloom.