She stood for some moments in her nightgown, shivering, breathing the silence in, the ancient peace of the mountain, the sense of earth turning gently and inexorably toward winter. Standing as witness to such simple grandeur as plain daylight, she found it absurd to be anxious—and decided there and then to go down after breakfast and see Ellen. Sooner or later they had to talk things over. The old mountain in the dawn made human affairs look less complex than perhaps they really were, but at least it dragged one out of the mire to contemplate the large and the inexorable—the slow natural growth and change, the light coming later and staying less long each day (it was now seven and the sun just rising), and ourselves as part of some things that did not change, that took us along with them, war or peace, and would be there whether we were or not. It was restful just to think mountain. For us who have no religion in the old-fashioned sense, who can say no prayers to a listening God, nature itself—nature and human love—polarize, and we pray by being fully aware of them both. So Christina thought as she bent over Cornelius’s flushed face and kissed his forehead, remembering their old cat, Mitten, who used to wake Cornelius by licking his forehead.

His sleep was deep these mornings, and he did not move. When she came back an hour later with his breakfast on a tray, Cornelius was smiling. “I dreamt that Mitten woke me by licking my face—such a sweet dream … How are you, darling?” he murmured, and she knew that in some mysterious way the barrier between them had melted in the night. It was truly a new dawn.

“I was Mitten,” she said. “I woke to the mountain—so beautiful in the dawn, and I came and kissed you, but you were fast asleep.”

“Mmm … kiss me again. I’m awake now.”

And so she did, feeling as if his warm hand clasping hers held so much life in it that it was like getting a transfusion. In spite of the stroke and rather like a baby, Cornelius could grasp her hand now with terrific power. That had been the first sign of change—the first sign that the circulation was beginning to be normal again. Giving her so much love in this way, he pulled himself up into the day.

While he had his breakfast she sat on the end of the bed, and what he saw was Christina against the mountain.

“I’m going down to see Ellen,” she said. “I feel I must.”

“Yes, you must.”

“It’s going to be all right, isn’t it?”

Cornelius managed a crooked smile as he swallowed his oatmeal.

“Maybe. You’ll know how to do it, Christina—whether Nick needs help …”