The Return of the Native 在线 lit 下载 kindle 免费 pdf docx 电子版 txt

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There was, however, gradually evolved from its transformation scenes a lessextravagant episode, in which the heath dimly appeared behind the generalbrilliancy of the action. She was dancing to wondrous music, and herpartner was the man in silver armour who had accompanied her throughthe previous fantastic changes, the visor of his helmet being closed.Themazes of the dance were ecstatic. Soft whispering came into her ear fromunder the radiant helmet, and she felt like a woman in Paradise.

Thebottom of the vale was green to a width of ten yards or thereabouts, andthe shining facets of frost upon the blades of grass seemed to move onwith the shadows of those they surrounded. The masses of furze and heathto the right and left were dark as ever; a mere half-moon was powerless tosilver such sable features as theirs.

The heaven being spread with this pallid screen and the earth with thedarkest vegetation, their meeting-line at the horizon was clearly marked. Insuch contrast the heath wore the appearance of an instalment of nightwhich had taken up its place before its astronomical hour was come:darkness had to a great extent arrived hereon, while day stood distinct inthe sky.

In such contrast the heath wore the appearance of an instalment of nightwhich had taken up its place before its astronomical hour was come:darkness had to a great extent arrived hereon, while day stood distinct inthe sky. Looking upwards, a furze-cutter would have been inclined tocontinue work; looking down, he would have decided to finish his faggotand go home. The distant rims of the world and of the firmament seemedto be a division in time no less than a division in matter. The face of theheath by its mere complexion added half an hour to evening; it could inlike manner retard the dawn, sadden noon, anticipate the frowning ofstorms scarcely generated, and intensify the opacity of a moonlessmidnight to a cause of shaking and dread.

but alas, if times be not fair! Menhave oftener suffered from the mockery of a place too smiling for theirreason than from the oppression of surroundings oversadlytinged.Haggard Egdon appealed to a subtler and scarcer instinct, to a morerecently learnt emotion, than that which responds to the sort of beautycalled charming and fair.

To recline on a stump of thorn in the central valley of Egdon, betweenafternoon and night, as now, where the eye could reach nothing of theworld outside the summits and shoulders of heathland which filled thewhole circumference of its glance, and to know that everything around andunderneath had been from prehistoric times as unaltered as the starsoverhead,gave ballast to the mind adrift on change, and harassed by theirrepressible New.

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