The heather gave promise, in the tiny purple buds that sprouted from the
strong, rough stems, of the blaze of purple glory that would carpet the
moors with magic in the coming days of autumn. Yet there was a vague
hint, in the too deep silence, and in the great clouds that were slowly
drifting along the sky, of pent-up force merely awaiting the time to be
set free to gallop across the moor in anger and destruction. The clouds,
too, were deeply red, with orange touches here and there, trailing into
dark inky ragged edges.
Far away, at the foot of the hills a crofter's cow lowed lazily, calling
forth a summons to be taken in and relieved of its burden of milk. The
sheep came nearer to the "bughts," and the lambs burrowed for
nourishment, with tails wagging, as they drew their sustenance, prodding
and punching the patient mothers in the operation of feeding. Robert,
noting all, with leisured enjoyment strolled lazily into the little
copse, and lay down beneath the cool, grateful shelter of the trees.
Drugged by the sweetness and the solitude, he fell asleep, and the sun
was low on the horizon when he awoke, the whole copse ringing with the
evening songs of merle and mavis, and other less musical birds, and, as
he looked down the glade, he saw, out on the moorland path, coming
straight for the grove, the form of Mysie--the form of which he had
dreamed, and for which he had longed so much.
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