My room was
at the back of the house, and most of the gardens had trees in them, and
beyond these trees I could see the backs of the houses of the next
street rising like the wall of an old city; and as I looked the sun
rose, and the great light came in at my window, and the day began. 'And I found that when I was once out of the streets just about me that
I knew, some of the queer feeling that had come to me two days before
came back again. It was not nearly so strong, the streets no longer
smelt of incense, but still there was enough of it to show me what a
strange world I passed by. There were things that one may see again and
again in many London streets: a vine or a fig tree on a wall, a lark
singing in a cage, a curious shrub blossoming in a garden, an odd shape
of a roof, or a balcony with an uncommon-looking trellis-work in iron. There's scarcely a street, perhaps, where you won't see one or other of
such things as these; but that morning they rose to my eyes in a new
light, as if I had on the magic spectacles in the fairy tale, and just
like the man in the fairy tale, I went on and on in the new light. I
remember going through wild land on a high place; there were pools of
water shining in the sun, and great white houses in the middle of dark,
rocking pines, and then on the turn of the height I came to a little
lane that went aside from the main road, a lane that led to a wood, and
in the lane was a little old shadowed house, with a bell turret in the
roof, and a porch of trellis-work all dim and faded into the colour of
the sea; and in the garden there were growing tall, white lilies, just
as we saw them that day we went to look at the old pictures; they were
shining like silver, and they filled the air with their sweet scent. It
was from near that house I saw the valley and high places far away in
the sun. So, as I say, I went "on and on," by woods and fields, till I
came to a little town on the top of a hill, a town full of old houses
bowing to the ground beneath their years, and the morning was so still
that the blue smoke rose up straight into the sky from all the
roof-tops, so still that I heard far down in the valley the song of a
boy who was singing an old song through the streets as he went to
school, and as I passed through the awakening town, beneath the old,
grave houses, the church bells began to ring. 'It was soon after I had left this town behind me that I found the
Strange Road. I saw it branching off from the dusty high road, and it
looked so green that I turned aside into it, and soon I felt as if I had
really come into a new country. I don't know whether it was one of the
roads the old Romans made that my father used to tell me about; but it
was covered with deep, soft turf, and the great tall hedges on each side
looked as if they had not been touched for a hundred years; they had
grown so broad and high and wild that they met overhead, and I could
only get glimpses here and there of the country through which I was
passing, as one passes in a dream. The Strange Road led me on and on,
up and down hill; sometimes the rose bushes had grown so thick that I
could scarcely make my way between them, and sometimes the road
broadened out into a green, and in one valley a brook, spanned by an old
wooden bridge, ran across it. I was tired, and I found a soft and shady
place beneath an ash tree, where I must have slept for many hours, for
when I woke up it was late in the afternoon. So I went on again, and at
last the green road came out into the highway, and I looked up and saw
another town on a high place with a great church in the middle of it,
and when I went up to it there was a great organ sounding from within,
and the choir was singing.' There was a rapture in Darnell's voice as he spoke, that made his story
well-nigh swell into a song, and he drew a long breath as the words
ended, filled with the thought of that far-off summer day, when some
enchantment had informed all common things, transmuting them into a
great sacrament, causing earthly works to glow with the fire and the
glory of the everlasting light. And some splendour of that light shone on the face of Mary as she sat
still against the sweet gloom of the night, her dark hair making her
face more radiant. She was silent for a little while, and then she
spoke--

'Oh, my dear, why have you waited so long to tell me these wonderful
things? I think it is beautiful. Please go on.' 'I have always been afraid it was all nonsense,' said Darnell. 'And I
don't know how to explain what I feel. I didn't think I could say so
much as I have to-night.' 'And did you find it the same day after day?' 'All through the tour? Yes, I think every journey was a success. Of
course, I didn't go so far afield every day; I was too tired. Often I
rested all day long, and went out in the evening, after the lamps were
lit, and then only for a mile or two. I would roam about old, dim
squares, and hear the wind from the hills whispering in the trees; and
when I knew I was within call of some great glittering street, I was
sunk in the silence of ways where I was almost the only passenger, and
the lamps were so few and faint that they seemed to give out shadows
instead of light. And I would walk slowly, to and fro, perhaps for an
hour at a time, in such dark streets, and all the time I felt what I
told you about its being my secret--that the shadow, and the dim lights,
and the cool of the evening, and trees that were like dark low clouds
were all mine, and mine alone, that I was living in a world that nobody
else knew of, into which no one could enter. 'I remembered one night I had gone farther. It was somewhere in the far
west, where there are orchards and gardens, and great broad lawns that
slope down to trees by the river. A great red moon rose that night
through mists of sunset, and thin, filmy clouds, and I wandered by a
road that passed through the orchards, till I came to a little hill,
with the moon showing above it glowing like a great rose. Then I saw
figures pass between me and the moon, one by one, in a long line, each
bent double, with great packs upon their shoulders. One of them was
singing, and then in the middle of the song I heard a horrible shrill
laugh, in the thin cracked voice of a very old woman, and they
disappeared into the shadow of the trees. I suppose they were people
going to work, or coming from work in the gardens; but how like it was
to a nightmare! 'I can't tell you about Hampton; I should never finish talking. I was
there one evening, not long before they closed the gates, and there were
very few people about. But the grey-red, silent, echoing courts, and the
flowers falling into dreamland as the night came on, and the dark yews
and shadowy-looking statues, and the far, still stretches of water
beneath the avenues; and all melting into a blue mist, all being hidden
from one's eyes, slowly, surely, as if veils were dropped, one by one,
on a great ceremony! Oh! my dear, what could it mean?