was nothing between that barren, stony surface and the leaden
sky. What turf there had been had lost its colour, and never a
fragment of moss had grown upon one of those weather-beaten boulders.
The sea air had stained them, and the grey evening mists had rotted
them, until their surface was honeycombed with indentations, but
neither had softened or toned down their fierce ugliness. Even in the
bright sunlight such a country as this must still have been a country
of desolation, and a light heart must sometimes have lost its gaiety
and felt oppressed. To me, as I hurried along, with the cold evening
settling down around me, that walk was horrible. Strange shadows
seemed to dog my path and stalk solemnly along by my side. Footsteps
seemed to follow behind me, and every stone I dislodged made me start.
Sometimes I fancied that I heard strange whisperings in my ears, and
I started round, shivering and trembling, to find myself alone. Once I
stopped short. Was that a dead man in the way? How my heart beat! No!
it was only a long boulder of rock! Listen! was not that the scream
of a dying man? My own voice, raised in helpless terror, drowned the
sound, and while I stood there ready to sink to the ground, a great
sea-gull came circling round my head, and the blood flowed warm in my
veins once more. How sad and mournful was that solitary cry and slow,
hopeless flapping of the wings! Who was it said that the evil spirits
of dead men dwell imprisoned in those sad-crying birds? It was
very, very human, that cry. Bah! was I getting superstitious and
faint-hearted before my task was begun? I set my teeth and stepped
boldly onwards. For a while I had no more fancies.

Throughout that hideous walk my whole imagination seemed coloured
with a reflection of the purpose towards which I was tending. I do
not write this in any morbid fit. Few women have passed through what
I have passed through; fewer still have stopped to record their
sensations. It is strange that it should afford me any satisfaction to
record them here, but it is so. I have begun, and I must go on. This
part of my life is drawing rapidly to a close, and with its close I
shall seal this little book up and put it away for ever.

The night grew darker, and the road was fast becoming little more than
a rude cattle-track. A little distance ahead of me, from some building
as yet unseen, a strong, clear light was steadily burning. Save for
it, I might have feared that I had l