Up high the rocks are overgrown with ferns, and drooping things, all green and feathery, that hide small caves and picturesque crannies, through which the bright-eyed Naiads might peep whilst holding back with bare uplifted arms their amber hair, the better to gaze upon the unconscious earth outside.,
A strange scene presents itself to their expectant gaze. Before them is a large room (if so it can be called), possessed of no flooring but the bare brown earth that Mother Nature has supplied. To their right is a huge fireplace, where, upon the hearthstone, turf lies burning dimly, emitting the strong aromatic perfume that belongs to it. Near it crouches an old woman with her blue-checked apron thrown above her head, who rocks herself to and fro in silent grief, and with every long-drawn breath—that seems to break from her breast like a stormy wave upon a desert shore—brings her old withered palms together with a gesture indicative of despair.,
"That night at Chetwoode you made use of some words that I have never forgotten since.".
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