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Chapter XXXVII. Once More

           AndthesongofthebrookcameupintoDiamond’sears,andgrewandgrewandchangedwitheveryturn.ItseemedtoDiamondtobesingingthestoryofitslifetohim.Andsoitwas.Itbeganwithamusicaltinklewhichchangedtoababbleandthentoagentlerushing.Sometimesitssongwouldalmostcease,andthenbreakoutagain,tinkle,babble,andrush,allatonce.Atthebottomofthehilltheycametoasmallriver,intowhichthebrookflowedwithamuffledbutmerrysound.Alongthesurfaceoftheriver,darklyclearbelowtheminthemoonlight,theyfloated;now,whereitwidenedoutintoalittlelake,theywouldhoverforamomentoverabedofwater-lilies,andwatchthemswingabout,foldedinsleep,asthewateronwhichtheyleanedswayedinthepresenceofNorthWind;andnowtheywouldwatchthefishesasleepamongtheirrootsbelow.SometimesshewouldholdDiamondoveradeephollowcurvingintothebank,thathemightlookfarintothecoolstillness.Sometimesshewouldleavetheriverandsweepacrossaclover-field.Thebeeswereallathome,andthecloverwasasleep.Thenshewouldreturnandfollowtheriver.Itgrewwiderandwiderasitwent.Nowthearmiesofwheatandofoatswouldhangoveritsrushfromtheoppositebanks;nowthewillowswoulddiplowbranchesinitsstillwaters;andnowitwouldleadthemthroughstatelytreesandgrassybanksintoalovelygarden,wheretherosesandlilieswereasleep,thetenderflowersquitefoldedup,andonlyafewwide-awakeandsendingouttheirlifeinsweet,strongodours.

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