Every Girl's Library, Volume 8 of 10: A Collection of Appropriate and Instructive Reading for Girls of All Ages from the Best Authors of All Time
General
Every Girl's Library, Volume 8 of 10: A Collection of Appropriate and Instructive Reading for Girls of All Ages from the Best Authors of All Time
Literature -- Collections
Will thought he had never heard anything like this, and he kept on
asking question after question about the world that lay away down the
river, with all its perils and marvels, until the old miller became
quite interested himself, and at last took him by the hand and led him
to the hilltop that overlooks the valley and the plain. The sun was near
setting, and hung low down in a cloudless sky. Everything was defined
and glorified in golden light. Will had never seen so great an expanse
of country in his life; he stood and gazed with all his eyes. He could
see the cities, and the woods and fields, and the bright curves of the
river, and far away to where the rim of the plain trenched along the
shining heavens. An over-mastering emotion seized upon the boy, soul and
body; his heart beat so thickly that he could not breathe; the scene
swam before his eyes; the sun seemed to wheel round and round, and throw
off, as it turned, strange shapes which disappeared with the rapidity of
thought, and were succeeded by others. Will covered his face with his
hands, and burst into a violent fit of tears; and the poor miller, sadly
disappointed and perplexed, saw nothing better for it than to take him
up in his arms and carry him home in silence.
From that day forward Will was full of new hopes and longings. Something
kept tugging at his heart-strings; the running water carried his desires
along with it as he dreamed over its fleeting surface; the wind, as it
ran over innumerable tree-tops, hailed him with encouraging words;
branches beckoned downward; the open road, as it shouldered round the
angles and went turning and vanishing fast and faster down the valley,
tortured him with its solicitations. He spent long whiles on the
eminence, looking down the river-shed and abroad on the flat low-lands,
and watched the clouds that travelled forth upon the sluggish wind and
trailed their purple shadows on the plain; or he would linger by the
wayside, and follow the carriages with his eyes as they rattled downward
by the river. It did not matter what it was; everything that went that
way, were it cloud or carriage, bird or brown water in the stream, he
felt his heart flow out after it in an ecstasy of longing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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