The tranquility of the bright warm day is purest around the retired path
leading to the little dwelling. Here the fragrance of wild flowers rises
pleasantly from the waving grass; the lulling, monotonous hum of insect
life pervades the light, steady air; the sunbeams, intercepted here and
there by the clustering trees, fall in irregular patches of brightness
on the shady ground; and, saving the birds which occasionally pass
overhead, singing in their flight, no living creature appears on the
quiet scene, until, gaining the wicket-gate which leads into the farm-
house garden, we look forth upon the prospect within.
There, following the small circular footpath which her own persevering
steps have day by day already traced, appears the form of a solitary
woman, pacing slowly about the mound of grassy earth which marks the
grave of the young Goth.
For some time she proceeds on her circumscribed round with as much
undeviating, mechanical regularity, as if beyond that narrow space rose
a barrier which caged her from ever setting foot on the earth beyond.
Pages:
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692