(4) Valley, stream, and abbey were rapidly melting into the indefinite background of the night. Folded by a circle of oaks rose the grey walls of an ecclesiastical building of no inconsiderable size, while the mournful clangour of a bell came up upon the wind, with a vague sound as of voices chanting.
#LUCK SPROUT TORCHLIGHT 3 PATCH#
The dark ovals of their hoods were turned towards the south, where the white patch of a sail showed vaguely through the gathering grey.īetween the hill and the cliffs lay a valley, threaded by a meagre stream, that quavered through pastures. They were huddled together in a group, like sheep under a thorn hedge when storms threaten. Their gowns stood out blankly against the ascetic trunks of the pines. The women upon the hill were garbed after the fashion of grey nuns. The furze in the valley–swept and harrowed–undulated like a green lagoon. The trees seemed to sway to one another, to fling strange words with a tossing of hair, and outstretched hands. The woods were full of a vague woe, and of troubled breathing. There was an expression of despair on the face of the west. In the western vault, a vast rent in the wall of grey gave out a blaze of transient gold that slanted like a spear-shaft to a sullen sea.Ī wind cried restlessly amid the trees, gusty at intervals, but tuning its mood to a desolate and constant moan. The half light of evening lay over the scene, rolling wood and valley into a misty mass, while the horizon stood curbed by a belt of imminent clouds. (3) BENEATH the dark cornices of a thicket of wind-stunted pines stood a small company of women looking out into the hastening night.
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