And it was like a gentle blessing which held within it a sweet promise of peace and comfort. XII The lavender-covered waste and the gaunt ruins of the church had been left far behind, and our traveller was now ascending the rocky pass of the great rugged mountains that rose high and forbidding above his head. He had felt a longing to climb somewhere very high, with a wish to be as near the blue sky as possible. Something of the peace that the holy picture had filtered into his heart still remained. Within his clear look there was a dreamy wonder as if he still saw pure visions before him, the warm tears of the Mother of God having consecrated him to a deeper understanding. But there remained a shadow upon his soul from his dark experiences within the dwelling of the sorceress. He was no more the gay, flitting, singing bird he had been. He strode forward with a more manly tread; something of the boyish eagerness had gone out of his step, some of the sweet confidence had gone from his eyes when they rested on those he met on his way. When he played on his flute he marvelled at the new tones it had taken; they seemed deeper, sadder, and his voice vibrated less with the joy of living. Yet the world was still wonderful and full of promise; these rocky mountains had shapes and colours that made his heart rejoice. In this he was still the same Eric Gundian whom King Wanda had loved: he was without fear, and not even the sight of these treeless giants of stone daunted his wanderer's spirit. Each night when he slept, no matter where he rested his head, the vision he was following always appeared to him clear, vivid, unchanged--those great solemn eyes that looked into his without ever a droop of the lids. He felt he must cross these enormous heights before he could reach what he was seeking; that as yet his road had been too easy, and that it would be needed of him to make some great effort before he was worthy of attaining his goal. He looked back in thoughts upon the way he had come, and there seemed to him a great difference between the Eric of yesterday and to-day. Dense clouds were enfolding the peaks of the mountains and creeping like soft monsters along the sides, filling the deep precipices with damp moving masses which were all coming towards him ready to swallow him up. Steeper and steeper became the road, the air rarer, whilst the clouds lay thick and impenetrable over all. Eric toiled on; only seldom could he look down upon what lay beneath because of the vapours that were wrapping themselves around him. He knew not where he was going, but he stolidly continued his way in spite of the hard rocks and stones that wounded his feet, in spite of the path becoming always more irksome and dangerous. Often he had but a narrow ledge to walk on, with a chasm on one side, a high wall of rock on the other; and as the clouds lay over everything he was in constant peril of life.