"
There was no particular reason at the time why these words should have
so impressed me. Solitude was the last thing I desired then, having gone
down to Shoreford for my holiday, merely because Catherine was spending
the summer there too. But now that everything is over between us, the
solitary farm comes as balm to my wounded spirit. Let me see; to-day is
Tuesday the 2nd. Good Friday is the day after to-morrow; I could get
away to-morrow evening. All right! I'll go out and telegraph to Mrs.
Anderson, and pay for her reply.
April 4. Down End Farm.--I reached this last night. At seven o'clock I
found myself driving up from Rexingham station, with the crimson flaming
brands of the sunset behind me, and the soft mysterious twilight closing
in on all sides. It was almost dark when we got to the top of Beacon
Point Hill, and quite dark for a time as we began to descend the other
side, for the road here is cut down between steep red gravel banks,
crowned with sombre fir trees. When these were passed and we reached the
remembered stack-yard gate, there was clear heaven again above my head,
its exquisite ever-darkening blue already gemmed with the more brilliant
stars.
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