Wild sweeps of fell and
field faded on the sight to those dim and remote hues of distance only
visible upon days of exceeding aerial brilliancy. Immediately beneath the
eminence subtended ragged expanses of rainbow-colored heath and fern and
furze spotted with small fir trees which showed blue against the tones of
the moor. The heather's pink clearly contrasted with the paler shades of
the ling, and an additional silvery twinkle of light inhabited the latter
plant, its cause last year's dead white branches and twigs still scattered
through the living foliage and flower. Out of a myriad bells that wild
world spoke, and the murmur of the heath came as the murmur of a wise voice
to the ear on which it fell. There was a soul in the day; it lived, and
Joan looked into the eyes of a glorious, conscious entity, herself a little
part of the space-filling whole.
Presently, refreshed by brief rest, the pilgrim journeyed on over a road
which climbs the moor above deep fox-covers of rhododendron, already
mentioned as visible from Madron chapel. The way dipped presently, crossed
a rivulet and mounted again past the famous cromlech of Lanyon. But Joan
passed the quoit unheeding, and kept upon flint roads through Lanyon farm,
where its irregular buildings stretch across the hill-crest. She saw the
stacks roped strangely in nets with heavy stones to secure them against
winter gales; she observed the various familiar objects of Drift repeated
on a greater scale; then, going down hill yet again, Joan struck up the
course of another stream and passed steadily over broad, granite-dotted
tangles of whin, heather and rank grasses to her destination.
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