It was the air of
the same idyll of Snowdon that I first beard Winifred sing on the
sands of Raxton. Then I heard in the distance those echoes, magical
and faint, which were attributed by Winifred and Sinfi to the
Knockers or spirits of Snowdon.
IV
There I stood again, as on that other morning, in the crevice
overlooking the same llyn, looking at what might well have been the
same masses of vapour enveloping the same peaks, rolling as then,
boiling as then, blazing as then, whenever the bright shafts of
morning struck them. There I stood again, listening to the wild notes
of Sinfi's crwth in the distance, as the sun rose higher, pouring a
radiance through the eastern gate of the gorge, and kindling the
aerial vapours moving about the llyn till their iridescent sails
suggested the wings of some enormous dragon-fly of every hue.
'Her song does not come,' I said, 'but, this time, when it does come,
it will not befool my senses. Sinfi's own presence by my side--that
magnetism of hers which D'Arcy spoke of--would be required before the
glamour could be cast over me, now that I know she is crazy.
Pages:
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679