[The Treasure of Heaven by Marie Corelli]@TWC D-Link bookThe Treasure of Heaven CHAPTER XI 38/40
A mere caprice of the imagination,--a fancy that, perhaps, among the poor and lowly he might find a love or a friendship he had never met with among the rich and powerful, was all that had led him forth on this strange journey of which the end could but be disappointment and failure;--and at the present moment he felt so thoroughly conscious of his own folly, that he almost resolved on abandoning his enterprise as soon as he found himself once more on the main road. "I will take the first vehicle that comes by,"-- he said, "and make for the nearest railway station.
And I'll end my days with a character for being 'hard as nails!'-- that's the only way in which one can win the respectful consideration of one's fellows as a thoroughly 'sane and sensible' man!" Just then, the path he was following started sharply up a steep acclivity, and there was no other choice left to him but still to continue in it, as the trees were closing in blindly intricate tangles about him, and the brushwood was becoming so thick that he could not have possibly forced a passage through it.
His footing grew more difficult, for now, instead of soft pine-needles and leaves to tread upon, there were only loose stones, and the rain was blowing in downward squalls that almost by their very fury threw him backward on the ground. Up, still up, he went, however, panting painfully as he climbed,--his breath was short and uneasy--and all his body ached and shivered as with strong ague.
At last,--dizzy and half fainting,--he arrived at the top of the tedious and troublesome ascent, and uttered an involuntary cry at the scene of beauty and grandeur stretched in front of him.
How far he had walked he had no idea,--nor did he know how many hours he had taken in walking,--but he had somehow found his way to the summit of a rocky wooded height, from which he could survey the whole troubled expanse of wild sky and wilder sea,--while just below him the hills were split asunder into a huge cleft, or "coombe," running straight down to the very lip of ocean, with rampant foliage hanging about it on either side in lavish garlands of green, and big boulders piled up about it, from whose smooth surfaces the rain swept off in sleety sheets, leaving them shining like polished silver.
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