I thank you for that assurance, my friend." They grasped hands in silence.
Troy remembered later--it had reason to remember--through what halcyon weather April passed, that year, into May.

For three days a gentle breeze had blown from the south; for three more days it continued, dying down at nightfall and waking again at dawn.
Stolen days they seemed: cloudless, gradual, golden; a theft of Spring from Harvest-tide.

Unnatural weather, many called it: for the air held the warmth of full summer before the first swallow appeared, and while as yet the cuckoo, across the harbour, had been heard by few.
The after-glow of sunset had lingered, but had faded at length, taking the new moon with it, leaving a night so pale, so clear, so visibly domed overhead, that almost the eye might trace its curve and assign to each separate star its degree of magnitude.

Beyond the harbour's mouth the riding-lights of the Mevagissey fishing fleet ran like a carcanet of faint jewels, marking the unseen horizon of the Channel.

The full spring tide, soundless or scarcely lapping along shore, fell back on its ebb, not rapidly as yet, but imperceptibly gathering speed.