me when you cannot give him a good nature, and he might as well
have been christened Buonaparte for all it has done for him. Oh yes,
love, he is close-fisted, is Barjona, and it is said that his wife was
so tired of his nagging ways that she was quite pleased to go. I'm
sure I thank the Lord that I am not Mrs. Higgins, though they do say in
the village that Widow Robertshaw would have had him this many a year
back."

"But he is an old fox now," I remarked, "and avoids the trap."

It lacked still a couple of hours of noon when Mr. Higgins deposited us
at Uncle Ned's lonely hostelry, and drove off in the company of the
tired mare and his own complacent thoughts. Ten minutes later I had
completely forgotten his existence in the joy of a new experience.

I was there at last! The moors of which I had dreamed so long were a
conscious reality. Before me, and on either hand, they stretched until
they touched the grey of the sky. The glory of the heather was gone,
though sufficient colour lingered in the faded little bells to give a
warm glow to the landscape, and to hint of former splendour. My heart
ached a wee bit to think that I had come so late, but why should I
grudge Nature's silent children their hour of rest? The morning will
come when they will again fling aside the garb of night and deck
themselves in purple. Besides, there was the gorse, regal amid the
sombre browns and olives and neutral tints of the vegetation; and there
were green little pools and treacherous-looking bogs, and the uneven,
stony pathway which made a thin, grey dividing line as far as the eye
could see. What more could the heart of man desire?

How sweet the breath of the air was as it covered my cheeks with its
caresses! I _tasted_ the fragrance of it, and it gave buoyancy to my
body, and the wings of a dove to my soul. I flew back down the years
to the dingy sitting-room which held my sacred memories, and saw dear
old dad painting his moorland pictures in the glowing embers on the
hearth; and I flew upwards to the realms which eye hath not seen, and
was glad to remember that the moors are not included amongst the things
that are not to be.

Then, characteristically, my mood changed. The sense of desolation got
hold of me. I looked for sound of throbbing life and found none: only
tokens of a great, an irresistible Power. It may seem strange, but in
the silence of that vast wilderness I felt, as I had never felt before,
that ther