Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. This species of madness cannot properly be attributed to his illness, though its accent might be. And Ann Veronica walked beside him, trying in vain to soften her heart to him by the thought of how she had ill-used him, and all the time, as her feet and mind grew weary together, rejoicing more and more that at the cost of this one interminable walk she escaped the prospect of—what was it?—“Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights” in his company. And then presently these clouds began to wear thin and expose steep, deep slopes, going down and down, with grass and pine-trees, down and down, and at last, through a great rent in the clouds, bare roofs, shining like very minute pin-heads, and a road like a fibre of white silk-Macugnana, in Italy. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. For a second time Ann Veronica wanted to swear at the universe. " "You believe it, father?" "From the bottom of my heart. Time enough to do so when she has her affairs settled—if she can settle them.
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