We looked back on it now, the slanting rays of a low sun turning the streams to threads of gold and glowing on the red earth new turned by the plough and the broad tangle of the woodlands.

The road in front of us grew bleaker and wilder over huge russet and olive slopes, sprinkled with giant boulders.

Now and then we passed a moorland cottage, walled and roofed with stone, with no creeper to break its harsh outline.

Suddenly we looked down into a cuplike depression, patched with stunted oaks and firs which had been twisted and bent by the fury of years of storm.

Two high, narrow towers rose over the trees.