She remembered their music, as it murmured drowsily from
dead and gone summers, and sounded sweeter than the song of the bees at
Drift. She heard the tinkle of a stream outside the cottage, where it ran
under the hedge through a shute and emptied itself into a great
half-barrel; and then, turning her thoughts to the house, her own attic,
with the view of St. Michael's Mount and the bay, rose in thought, with
every detail distinct, even to the glass scent-bottle on the mantel-piece,
and the colored print of John Wesley being rescued in his childhood from a
burning house. These and kindred memories made a live picture to Joan's
eyes. For the first time since she had left her home the girl found in her
heart a desire to return to it. She awoke next morning with the old
recollections increased and multiplied; and the sensation bred from
continued contemplation was the sensation of a loss.
BOOK THREE
CHANCE
CHAPTER ONE
OF THE CROSSES
The significance of the ancient crosses in Joan Tregenza's latest phase of
mental growth becomes much finer after learning somewhat more concerning
them than she could ever know. The ephemeral life of one unhappy woman
viewed from these granite records of Brito-Celtic pagan and Christian
faith, examined in its relation to these hoary splinters of stone, grows an
object of some pathetic interest. Such memorials of the past as are here
indicated, vary mightily in age.
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