John made me promise to go out to meet him next morning on his return from his early walk across the farm.

I remember so well how gladly I sprang from my bed that morning, how tedious my dressing seemed, and yet how I lingered over it at the last, anxious to make myself more pleasing in the eyes which I knew would be watching for me from the hill.

I remember how, in the tenderness of my joy, I opened my sash to feed the robins, and how gay and fair the world looked in its robe of white.

I remember how I ran after a little beggar boy to give him sixpence, and how afterwards I went along the path through the fields singing aloud for mere happiness.

And yet a little cloud had already risen out of the glories of the shining East, and was spreading and moving towards me.
John and I walked home together, side by side, and we talked the happiest talk that ever was written or spoken.