recollection from chaos, the return of security, the earth firm,
superb and brilliant in the sun.  From the heart of his darkness he
spoke his thanksgiving; from a region as far, as hidden, she answered
him.  On a June night the nightingales sing, they answer each other
across the plain; they are heard under the window among the trees in
the garden.  Pausing, they looked down into the river which bore its
dark tide of waters, endlessly moving, beneath them.  They turned and
found themselves opposite the house.  Quietly they surveyed the
friendly place, burning its lamps either in expectation of them or
because Rodney was still there talking to Cassandra.  Katharine pushed
the door half open and stood upon the threshold.  The light lay in soft
golden grains upon the deep obscurity of the hushed and sleeping
household.  For a moment they waited, and then loosed their hands.
"Good night," he breathed.  "Good night," she murmured back to him. 

End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Night and Day, by Virginia Woolf