In Part 2, Chapter 10, Lou and Oscar express concern that Carl is trying to marry Alexandra to take the family land; as far as they are concerned, the land should belong to them because they are the men of the family. When they accuse Alexandra of being hard on them, she retorts with a metaphor and a simile:
Hard on you? I never meant to be hard. Conditions were hard. Maybe I would never have been very soft, anyhow; but I certainly didn’t choose to be the kind of girl I was. If you take even a vine and cut it back again and again, it grows hard, like a tree.
Alexandra compares herself to a vine that must survive in difficult conditions. In her metaphor, the many obstacles she has faced over the years (first as her father's helper and then as the outright owner of the land) have "cut her back" so that she had to grow back "harder." If she has been "hard" on Lou and Oscar, that was not because she wanted to be a critical person but rather because she wanted everyone to survive and had adapted to conditions that were going to kill them all if she remained soft.
As she describes what happened to her over the years, through all this survival, she uses a simile to compare the hardened vine to a tree. This simile helps reframe Alexandra's "hardness" in a more positive light. Whereas a toughened vine might overtake a garden and be seen as difficult to tame, a tree is strong. It is desirable for a tree to keep growing and to withstand all kinds of adverse conditions. It is helpful when its canopy can provide shade and protection. Lou and Oscar see Alexandra as an unmanageable and overbearing sister. Hurt by the idea that this is what she has become, she asks them instead to see her as a pillar of strength and protection at the center of the family.
In Part 4, Chapter 5, Marie learns about Amédée's illness and suddenly feels alone: she knows Emil could just as easily have gotten sick, but she can't take comfort at his side because her love for him is a secret. Marie wanders outside to get away from her house, and the narrator uses imagery to construct a metaphor describing her state of mind:
Marie stole slowly, flutteringly, along the path [...]. The years seemed to stretch before her like the land; spring, summer, autumn, winter, spring; always the same patient fields, the patient little trees, the patient lives; always the same yearning, the same pulling at the chain—until the instinct to live had torn itself and bled and weakened for the last time, until the chain secured a dead woman, who might cautiously be released. Marie walked on, her face lifted toward the remote, inaccessible evening star.
There is no actual chain securing Marie anywhere, but she feels as though there is a metaphorical chain keeping her in place. Marie wants her life to be going somewhere. But as she moves through the years, she keeps cycling back to the same events, the same seasons, and the same landmarks. Everything about her life is as familiar to her as the "patient fields, the patient little trees, the patient lives" she has been impatiently waiting next to forever.
The narrator builds out the metaphor of the chain keeping her in place through vivid imagery. Marie's "instinct to live" is what has been "tearing itself, bleeding, and weakening" against the chain's pull. This instinct is what has been leading her to flirt with Emil and take joy in small delights, even when Frank tries to control her. Now that her instinct to live has stopped trying to resist (i.e. Marie has decided that she will never escape her marriage or get together with Emil), all that is left in the chain is a "dead woman, who might cautiously be released." Marie doesn't believe there is any danger left that she will cheat on Frank or escape her life because her hope has died. The image of the "remote, inaccessible evening star" is a melancholy emblem of her learned helplessness. Try as she might to direct herself toward happiness, she knows she will never get there.
The narrator ends the novel in Part 5, Chapter 3 with a metaphor comparing the land to a nurturing parent to Alexandra and all the generations that will follow her:
Fortunate country, that is one day to receive hearts like Alexandra’s into its bosom, to give them out again in the yellow wheat, in the rustling corn, in the shining eyes of youth!
The literal process the narrator is referring to is burial and fertilization: when Alexandra dies, she will be buried (like her parents) on the land she has worked her entire life. As her body decomposes, the "yellow wheat" and "rustling corn" will thrive on the nutrients her body adds to the soil. Even the "youth" of future generations will be nurtured by Alexandra's decomposing body, through the flourishing wheat and corn they will both eat and sell to get rich. Their eyes will "shine" with visions of abundance and opportunity that Alexandra's life and death have provided for them. But it is not Alexandra herself who will be the metaphorical parent of these successive generations. Instead, according to this metaphor, the land is the parent who will hug Alexandra to its "bosom" when she dies and who will use her heart to provide for the plants and the youth of the future. Humans are temporary, but lovingly tended land will nurture a family line in perpetuity.
Cather ends the novel by suggesting that no matter what tragedy has befallen the Bergsons in their lifetimes, their labor and their dedication to the land has all been worth it because it will pay dividends to the family down the line. This bittersweet sentiment ultimately supports the American ideals of pioneering, hard work, and self-sacrifice. Furthermore, it suggests that despite her strained relationship with some of her brothers, Alexandra's love of the land is ultimately a deep and abiding love for her family and its future.
