She had thought herself early up, but the whole wild world of the heath
was before her, and she began to feel belated as she went. There was a
suspicion of frost in the air which made it deliciously fresh and
exhilarating. The early morning mists still hung about, but the sun was
brightly busy dispelling them. The rabbits were tripping hither and
thither, too intent on their own business to pay much heed to Evadne. A
bird sprang up from her feet, and soared out of sight, and she paused a
moment with upturned face, dilated eyes, and lips apart, to watch him. But
a glimpse of the gorse recalled her, and she picked some yellow blooms
with delicate finger tips, and carried them in her bare hand savouring the
scent, and at the same time looking and listening with an involuntary
straining to enjoy the perception of each separate delicate delight at
once, till presently the enthusiasm of nature called forth some further
faculty, and she found herself sensible of every tint and tone, sight and
sound, distinguishing, deciphering, but yet perceiving all together as the
trained ear of a musician does the parts played by every instrument in an
orchestra, and takes cognizance of the whole effect as well.
At the end of the waste there was a little church overlooking the sea. She
saw that the door was open as she approached it, and she paused to look
in. The early weekday service was in progress. A few quiet figures sat
apart in the pews. The light was subdued. Something was being read aloud
by a voice of caressing quality and musical. She did not attend to the
words, but the tone satisfied. It seemed to her that the peace of God
invited, and she slipped into the nearest pew. She found a Bible on the
seat beside her, and opening it haphazard her eyes fell upon the words:
"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters;
these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep."
The lap of the little waves on the beach below was distinctly audible, the
bird calls, and their twitterings, intermittent, incessant, persistent,
came close and departed; and the fragrance of the blossoms, crushed in her
hand, rose to remind her they were there.
"They that go down to the sea in ships."
It was a passage to be felt at the moment with the sea itself so near, and
as she paused to ponder it her mind attuned itself involuntarily to the
habit of holy thought associated with the place, while the scents and
sounds of nature streamed in upon her, forming now a soft undercurrent,
now a delicious accompaniment which filled the interval between what she
knew of this world and all that she dreamt of the next. The cycle of
sensation was complete, and in a moment her whole being blossomed into
gladness. Her intellectual activity was suspended--her senses awoke. It
was the morning of life with her, and she sank upon her knees, and lifted
up her heart to express the joy of it in one ecstatic note: "O blessed
Lord!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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