Now the earth was clear and hard and cold.

The great white mountains drove higher into the sky, very softly and gently a few white flakes were falling.
With a great relief, almost a sigh of thank-fulness, he turned back to the Druids' Stones.

There they were--two of them standing upright, stained with lichen, grey and weather-beaten, one lying flat, hollowed a little in the centre.

The ferns stood above them and the bare branches of the trees crossed in strange shapes against the sky.
Here, too, there was a peaceful, restful silence.

No more was God in these quiet stones than He had been in that noisy theatrical Revival Meeting--Lawrence was wrong.