MS-BRML-NWWR-22-546

[0119] only known to him fre^om ar^far, seen perhaps from his bedroom window
or, n^one black day, from the summit of a monument which, having
nothing in particular to do and turning to height for solace he
had paid his few coppers to climb, up the winding stones.

[0120] From
there he must have seen it all, the plain, the sea, and then these
very hills that some call mountains, indigo in places in the
evening light, their serried ranges crowding to the sky-^[#]line,
cloven with hidden valleys that the eye divine^s from sudden shifts
^[₰]of colour and then from other signs for which there are no words,
nor even thoughts.

[0121] But all are not divined, even from that height,
and often where only one escarpment is supposed, and one crest, in
reality there are two, two escarpments, two crests, riven by a
valley.

[0122] But now he knows these hills, that is he knows them better,
and if ever again he sees them from afar it will be^, I think^, with
other eyes, and not only that but the within, all that inner space
one never sees, the brain and heart and other cax^verns where thought
and feeling hold their sabbath, all that too quite differently
disposed.

[0123] He looks old and it is a sorry sight to see him solitary
after so many years, so many days and nights unthinkinglx^y given to
^[₰]that rumour rising at birth and even earlier, What shall I do? What
shall I do? now low, a murmur, now precise as the headwaiter's
And to follow? and ooften rising to a c^scream.

[0124] And in the end, or
almost, to be abroad alone, by unknown ways, in the gathering
night, with a stick. [0125] It was a stout stick, he used it to thrust
himself onward, or as a defenc^se, when the time cx^ame, against dogs
and marauders. [0126] Yes, night was gathering, but the man was innocent,