Over the wooden railings now, and across the dewy pasture and up the
tallest sandhill, from the top of which he could, as he knew, look
down upon the sea. The waters would be ruddy and golden at this hour,
but by day ran brown and sluggish enough over the mud banks of the
Alt. On the other side of the shining expanse the houses of New
Brighton would stand forth all flecked with gold, and farther still
the very smoke of Liverpool would appear as a luminous yellow haze,
and the masts and riggings of the ships lying at anchor would be
turned into bars of gold. John knew these things by heart, but was
never tired of gazing upon them, and as he climbed the hill his heart
grew lighter and lighter; the salt, tart breeze that lifted his hair
as he topped it gave new vigour to his tired limbs, and a sudden sense
of exhilaration to his whole being. He stood at last with folded arms
on the summit letting it sing past him, and gazing about him in vague
delight. A golden world indeed; just what he had expected to find. A
golden sea, a golden sky, the very sand and grasses at his feet
appeared to be golden too.
Now, what was that? About twenty paces beneath him, on the seaward
side of the dune, he caught a glimpse of another golden object, an
unusual object, the nature of which he did not at once identify. He
shaded his eyes with his hand, and presently began to laugh softly.
That golden thing which had caught his eye was the uncovered head of a
girl. She was seated in a hollow of the hill, and the tall star-grass
and blossoming ragwort grew so freely at this spot that only her head
was visible. All at once a hand was thrust out from behind the screen,
and a sudden shower of gold fell downwards from that glittering crown.
John laughed again as the girl began very composedly to comb her hair.
He came down the hill, stepping as lightly as he could, and paused in
front of her quaint 'tiring-room. She looked up as his shadow fell
across her, paused a moment with the comb poised in mid-air, and then
calmly drew it through her yellow locks. What hair it was! It fell
round her like a veil as she sat: it would reach almost to her knees,
John thought, if she were standing. He looked at her with a kind of
awe; for a moment the strange tales he had so often heard of mermaids
and witches recurring to his mind. But he was reassured on a closer
inspection of the girl and her attire. She wore a bed-gown and apron
like Jinny's, but not, alas! so neat or clean; her stuff petticoat,
too, was ragged and old, and the feet, which were stretched forth from
under its folds, were brown and bare as the hands which so deftly
wielded the comb.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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