But I felt that in wild and ragged pits like those,
covered here and there with rough and shaggy brushwood, and full of
wild cascades and deep pools, a body might well be concealed till
doomsday.
My kind-hearted companion accompanied me for some miles, and did his
best to dispel my gloom by his lively and intelligent talk. We parted
at Pen y Gwryd. I never saw him again. I never knew his name. Should
these lines ever come beneath his eyes he will know that though the
great ocean of human life rolls between his life-vessel and mine, I
have not forgotten how and where once we touched.
But how could I rest? Though Hope herself was laughing my hopes to
scorn, how could I rest? How could I cease to search?
Bitter as it was to wander about the hills teasing my soul by
delusions which other people must fain smile at, it would have been
more bitter still to accept for certainty the intolerable truth that
Winifred had died famished, or that her beloved body was a mangled
corpse at the bottom of a cliff. If the reader does not understand
this, it is because he finds it impossible to understand a sorrow
like mine.
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