High up on the zenith, the approach of the sun to the
horizon was proclaimed by the most delicate tints of rose-colour, but
the cloud-bank above him was dark and untouched, although the blue
which was over it, was every moment becoming paler. Clara watched;
she was moved even to tears by the beauty of the scene, but she was
stirred by something more than beauty, just as he who was in the
Spirit and beheld a throne and One sitting thereon, saw something
more than loveliness, although He was radiant with the colour of
jasper and there was a rainbow round about Him like an emerald to
look upon. In a few moments the highest top of the cloud-rampart was
kindled, and the whole wavy outline became a fringe of flame. In a
few moments more the fire just at one point became blinding, and in
another second the sun emerged, the first arrowy shaft passed into
her chamber, the first shadow was cast, and it was day. She put her
hands to her face; the tears fell faster, but she wiped them away and
her great purpose was fixed. She crept back into bed, her agitation
ceased, a strange and almost supernatural peace overshadowed her and
she fell asleep not to wake till the sound of the scythe had ceased
in the meadow just beyond the rick-yard that came up to one side of
the cottage, and the mowers were at their breakfast.
Neither Mrs Caffyn nor Clara thought of seeing the Letherhead party
on Saturday.
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