And then, in an instant he
remembered how he had seen the three, years ago, against the sunset, as
he rode with Anthony....
* * * * *
His mind was full of the strange memory as he came out at last, when the
black darkness began to fade to grey, and the noise of the rain on the
roof had ceased, and the wind had fallen.
It was a view of extraordinary solemnity that he looked on, as he stood
leaning against the rough door-post. The night was still stronger than
day; overhead was as black as ever, and stars shone in it through the
dissolving clouds that were passing at last. But, immediately over the
grim, serrated edge of the crag that faced him to the east, a faint and
tender light was beginning to burn, so faint that, as yet it seemed an
absence of black rather than as of a colour itself; and in the midst of
it, like a crumb of diamond, shone a single dying star. This high land
was as still now as a sheltered valley, a tuft of springy grass stood
out on the crag as stiff as a thin plume; and the silence, as at Padley
two weeks ago, was marked rather than broken by the tinkle of water from
his spring fifty yards away. The air was cold and fresh and marvellously
scented, after the rain, with the clean smell of strong turf and rushes.
It was as different from the peace he had had at Padley as water is
different from wine; yet it was Peace, too, a confident and expectant
peace that precedes the battle, rather than the rest which follows
it.
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