d her how strong was Sinfi's wish that we should not do so.
Winnie soon yielded her point, and we began leisurely our descent
westward, along that same path which Sinfi and I had taken on that
other evening, which now seemed so far away, when we walked down to
Llanberis with the setting sun in our faces. If my misery could then
only find expression in sighs and occasional ejaculations of pain,
absolutely dumb was the bliss that came to me now, growing in power
with every moment, as the scepticism of my mind about the reality of
the new heaven before me gave way to the triumphant acceptance of it
by my senses and my soul.

The beauty of the scene--the touch of the summer breeze, soft as
velvet even when it grew boisterous, the perfume of the Snowdonian
flowerage that came up to meet us, seemed to pour in upon me through
the music of Winnie's voice which seemed to be fusing them all. That
beloved voice was making all my senses one.

'You leave all the talk to me,' she said. But as she looked in my
face her instinct told her why I could not talk. She knew that such
happiness and such bliss as mine carry the soul into a region where
spoken language is not.

Looking round me towards the left, where the mighty hollow of Cwm
Dyli was partly in sunshine and partly in shade, I startled Winnie by
suddenly calling out her name. My thoughts had left the happy dream
of Winifred's presence and were with Sinfi Lovell. As I looked at the
tall precipices rising from the chasm right up to the summit of
Snowdon, I recalled how Sinfi, notwithstanding her familiarity with
the scene, appeared to stand appalled as she gazed at the jagged
ridges of Crib-y-Ddysgyl, Crib Goch, Lliwedd, and the heights of Moel
Siabod beyond. I recalled how the expression of alarm upon Sinfi's
features had made me almost see in the distance a starving girl
wandering among the rocks, and this it was that made me now exclaim
'Winnie!' With this my lost power of speech returned.

We went to the ruined huts where Sinfi had on that memorable day
lingered by the spring, and Winnie began to scoop out the water with
her hand and drink it. She saw how I wanted to drink the water out of
the little palm, and she scooped some out for me, saying, 'It's the
purest, and sweetest, and best water on Snowdon.'

'Yes,' I said, 'the purest, and sweetest, and best water in the world
when drunk from such a cup.'

She drew her hand away and let the water drop through her fingers,