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it.’
    Serenity looked towards the old rambling, unpainted house, its timbers weathered silver by time, its roof red-brown with rust. Roses and honeysuckle climbed the railings of the broad verandah which encircled the house, and she loved it. The garden was a riot of flowers, roses and carnations, lavender and mint, gladioli, fuchsia and nightscented stock romped in a confusion that was a glowing patchwork of colour, and the lazy drone of the bees and clacking of the cicadas filled the air with sound, as the perfume filled her senses.
    ‘I suppose I should get the painters in,’ Hudson said. ‘But somehow I keep putting it off. The house and garden set in the native bush here has so much of her personality still, that I almost expect to see Sarah walking down the path to greet me.’
    ‘Who lives here?’ Serenity asked carefully.
    ‘My married couple, Tessa and Lee, and their five children. They are away on holiday at the moment. You’ll like them, they’re a beaut family, and she loves this old house.’
    ‘I’m glad you didn't paint it,’ Serenity commented as she wheeled Misty away. He must not know that she was so deeply moved that to stay there another second without claiming Sarah for her own would have been impossible. She was glad it was empty. She would come back on her own and sit on the sun-drenched verandah and soak up the impressions of the past, and feel the imprint of Sarah’s personality seep into her being and smooth out the raw edges of grief and loss that were threatening to overwhelm her.
    As Hudson caught up and rode beside her he demanded in concern, ‘Are you up to this ride? You look so pale you’re almost transparent. We can go tomorrow— there is no rush, as you’ll be here for quite a while yet. I think you should turn back and have an hour or two in bed.’
    ‘I look pale and wan and unattractive because I have just finished a stint on night-duty, and I think it’s far from complimentary for you to keep flinging it at me,’ she said with asperity, glad that her broad-brimmed hat shaded her eyes from his penetrating gaze.
    ‘I think nothing of the sort, that you’re unattractive I mean. As a matter of fact when you sat gazing at the house you reminded me of Sarah in the strangest way, the same long slender neck, the same beautifully moulded high cheek-bones and exquisite profile, but there the resemblance ended. You’ve got a waspish tongue and a perverse nature, not at all like my Sarah.’
    Serenity chuckled, ‘Glad you noticed, so don’t try to bully me. I am perfectly well and I want to enjoy this ride. It’s such a glorious day. Like the song, some days are diamonds, some days are stones.’
    ‘Okay, Paleface, be it on your own head. Follow me.’
    He flicked the reins and his big black horse broke into a canter and then a gallop.
    Misty tossed her head impatiently until Serenity urged her on and as the horse lengthened stride she felt the joy of the rhythm and speed of the chase as the wind whipped her hair and face. Down the gravel road they galloped, past the stockyards and through the open gate then out across the green pasture. The thrill of the ride blotted out the past, and blurred the future, leaving her to concentrate on trying to catch the big man and his big horse and his retinue of dogs.
    As he slowed to a canter she joined him, breathless and laughing. ‘That was marvellous.’
    ‘Good, although a bit unfair, Rajah runs the legs off your mustang. We’ll have to give you something better.’
    As they rode through a clear mountain stream and into a stand of magnificent rimu and kahikatea forest giants and elegant tree ferns the horses slowed to a walk, enjoying the shade and shadow of the cool green depths. Native birds were everywhere, pigeons and tuis, fantails and mocking-birds and their liquid song-notes hung on the air.
    They emerged suddenly on the grassy bank of a wild and beautiful river, flowing deep blue-green and broad from the mountain gorge