No guiding principle, let us call it." But then the dark velvety voice rolled out: "Would ye hear the story How it unfolds itself...

" and they were silent.
The sun had set.

In the western sky there were great masses of crushed-up rose-coloured clouds.

Broad beams of light shone through the clouds and beyond them as if they would cover the whole sky.

Overhead the blue faded; it turned a pale gold, and the bush outlined against it gleamed dark and brilliant like metal.