Chapter VI – A Leaf from Christina’s Psalm-Book begins with a morning stirred not by habit, but by an emotion so tender it startles even Kirstie herself. Awakening with a calm smile before the household rises, she greets the day as though it were carrying a secret just for her. The usual grogginess is replaced with clarity and joy, surprising her young maid, who remarks with curiosity. Kirstie’s reply, light-hearted but heartfelt, reflects a deep contentment she can’t quite explain aloud. Though she rises with eagerness, habit and the quiet fear of being observed too closely make her pause. She masks her energy behind routines—combing her hair slowly, choosing attire with care, and moving with the practiced restraint of a girl determined not to reveal too much. Yet beneath it all, her heart moves quickly, already racing toward a moment not yet named but silently awaited.

Downstairs, the subtle change in her demeanor spreads like sunlight through a window. The other girls notice it first—not just in her lighter step, but in her silences, which carry more warmth than before. Laughter follows her in whispers, not mocking but celebratory, as if everyone had caught sight of something delicate and beautiful unfolding. Kirstie says little, but her modest glances and flushed cheeks say more than words could. The meal becomes a stage where everyone performs their part, yet all eyes return to her, quietly wondering about the invisible thread of joy woven into her movements. Though she tries to keep it hidden, love, like music, has its own way of being felt. She walks not above others, but apart—set slightly aside by the radiance of her hope, and by the vulnerability that comes from quietly waiting for something more. In her, innocence and resolve walk hand in hand.

That day, hours drift by not in routine, but in suspended anticipation. The tasks she performs are done gently, as though each movement must not disturb the thread of wonder she is holding onto. By mid-afternoon, with embroidery in hand as her gentle disguise, she slips away to a favorite spot—one that offers a high view of the glen and the path that threads across the hills. It is here, with the world spread quietly before her, that Kirstie lets her thoughts rise. The wind brushes her cheek like a promise, and the open stretch of sky makes space for a hope too bold to name aloud. Her eyes linger on familiar landmarks—the stone, the winding trail, the distance that seems close when filled with longing. She waits not with certainty, but with faith in the repetition of something meaningful.

When Archie appears, it is not as a surprise, but as an answer. There is no orchestration to his arrival—just the steady climb, the tipping of his hat, and the short breath of someone who didn’t stop to hesitate. Kirstie watches his approach with a stillness that comes not from indifference but from awe. Each step he takes toward her makes the world smaller and more intimate, until it feels like nothing exists beyond that hill. He says little when he arrives, and yet his presence speaks of something shared, something understood without having to be explained. He doesn’t bring promises, but he brings himself, and that is what matters most. In his every gesture, there is the quiet message that her waiting wasn’t in vain.

The beauty of what passes between them lies in its restraint. Neither rushes the moment. They speak as those who understand that closeness does not always require confession—that often, the deepest affection is felt in what remains unspoken. Kirstie does not ask for more than he gives; she simply receives it, and in doing so, makes space for something delicate to grow. The path he climbed becomes symbolic—a choice made, an effort taken, a connection reaffirmed. For a moment, the world stands still. Around them, the ordinary landscape becomes enchanted by the presence of something tender, shared only between two hearts brave enough to meet in stillness.

This chapter doesn’t need grand declarations to leave a lasting impression. It lingers with the quiet strength of a heartbeat, steady and sure. In Kirstie’s waiting and Archie’s return, there is a truth about the early steps of love: that what begins with silence often deepens into something that words cannot fully hold. They do not yet know what will follow, but they both recognize what has begun. And in that recognition, a kind of promise forms—not written or spoken, but carried in their presence, their patience, and the breathless beauty of being seen and chosen without demand.