So he dressed and went out, and climbed up Giltar
Point, and sat there enjoying the sweet air and the radiance of the
sea, and the sight of the fringe of creaming foam about the grey
foundations of St. Margaret's Island. Then he looked beyond and gazed
at the new white monastery on Caldy, and wondered who the architect
was, and how he had contrived to make the group of buildings look
exactly like the background of a mediaeval picture.
After about an hour of this and a couple of pipes, Smith confesses
that he began to feel extremely drowsy. He was just wondering whether
it would be pleasant to stretch himself out on the wild thyme that
scented the high place and go to sleep till breakfast, when the
mounting sun caught one of the monastery windows, and Smith stared
sleepily at the darting flashing light till it dazzled him. Then he
felt "queer." There was an odd sensation as if the top of his head
were dilating and contracting, and then he says he had a sort of
shock, something between a mild current of electricity and the
sensation of putting one's hand into the ripple of a swift brook.
Pages:
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52