A WESTERLY storm of great strength had been blowing all day, shaking the
walls of the house and making us fear for the chimneys. About four
o’clock, although the wind continued very high, the clouds broke, and
moved in a slow, majestic procession obliquely from the north-west to the
south-east. Here and there small apertures revealed the undimmed heaven
behind. Immense, rounded projections reared themselves from the main
body, and flying, ragged fragments, apparently at a lower level, fled
beside and before them. These fragments of lesser density showed
innumerable tints of bluish grey from the darkest up to one which
differed but little from the pure sky-blue surrounding them. Just after
the sun set a rosy flush of light spread almost instantaneously up to the
zenith and in an instant had gone. Low down in the west was a long,
broadish bar of orange light, crossed by the black pines on the hill half
a mile away. Their stems and the outline of each piece of foliage were
as distinct as if they were but a hundred yards distant. Half the length
of the field in front of me lay a small pool full to its grassy margin.
It reflected with such singular fidelity the light and colour above it
that it seemed itself to be an original source of light and colour. Of
all the sights to be seen in this part of the world none are more
strangely and suggestively beautiful than the little patches of rain or
spring water in the twilight on the moorland or meadows. Presently the
wind rose again, and a rain-squall followed. It passed, and the stars
began to come out, and Orion showed himself above the eastern woods. He
seemed as if he were marching through the moonlit scud which drove
against him. How urgent all the business of this afternoon and evening
has been, and yet what it meant who could say? I was like a poor man’s
child who, looking out from the cottage window, beholds with amazement a
great army traversing the plain before him with banners and music and
knows nothing of its errand.