Serenity was spread in the middle heavens, blue, illimitable, and
along to the East, three huge clouds, like thoughts brooding over the
destinies below, moved slowly toward the sea, so that great shadows
filled the valleys. And the land that lay under all the other sky was
gleaming, and quivering with every colour, as it were, clothed with the
divine smile. The wind, from the North, whereon floated the white birds
of the smaller clouds, had no voice, for it was above barriers, utterly
free. Before Miltoun, turning to this wind, lay the maze of the lower
lands, the misty greens, rose pinks, and browns of the fields, and white
and grey dots and strokes of cottages and church towers, fading into
the blue veil of distance, confined by a far range of hills. Behind
him there was nothing but the restless surface of the moor, coloured
purplish-brown. On that untamed sea of graven wildness could be seen
no ship of man, save one, on the far horizon--the grim hulk, Dartmoor
Prison. There was no sound, no scent, and it seemed to Miltoun as if his
spirit had left his body, and become part of the solemnity of God. Yet,
as he stood there, with his head bared, that strange smile which haunted
him in moments of deep feeling, showed that he had not surrendered to
the Universal, that his own spirit was but being fortified, and that
this was the true and secret source of his delight.
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