So much smaller was the place than it had seemed in boyhood! Twice since they came to be men had he been here with Ian, and they had smiled over their cavern, but felt for it a tenderness.
In a corner lay the fagots that, the last time, they had gathered with laughter and left here against outlaws' needs.

Ian! He pictured Ian with his soldiers.
Outside the cavern, the air came about him like a cloud of fragrance.
As he went down the glen, into its softer sweeps, this increased, as did the song of birds.

The primrose was strewn about in disks of pale gold, the white thorn lifted great bouquets, the bluebell touched the heart.

A lark sang in the sky, linnet and cuckoo at hand, in the wood at the top of the glen cooed the doves.

The water rippled by the leaning birches, the wild bees went from flower to flower.