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An intense melancholy shadowed her face, as she thus gazed
with brooding eyes on the naked monotony of those wintry hills. So had
she looked in many and many a winter, and it seemed to her that her life
was of a piece with those bleak hills, where in the dismal winter time
nothing living trod. She stood gazing at the sinking sun, a fiery ball
shining at the end of a long gallery of crag and rock, like a lamp at
the end of a corridor; and as she gazed the red round orb dropped
suddenly behind the edge of a crag, as if she had been an enchantress
and had dismissed it with a wave of her wand.
'O Lord, how long, how long?' she said. 'How many times have I seen that
sun go down from this spot, in winter and summer, in spring and autumn!
And now that the one being I loved and cared for is far away, I feel all
the weariness and emptiness of my life.'
As she turned to resume her walk she heard the muffled sound of wheels
in the road below, that road which was completely hidden by foliage in
summer, but which was now visible here and there between the leafless
trees.


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