d the heavy plunging sound of their hoofs on the rough
road, and the faded look of the long hair that hung about their houghs;
but more than these he had liked the great round limbs of them, so full
of strength. He remembered that once at Boveyhayne, Mary Graham and he
had argued about the sea-gulls. She had "just loved" them, but he had
qualified his admiration. He liked the long, motionless flight of the
gulls as they circled through the air, and the whiteness of their
shapely bodies and the grey feathers on their backs, but he disliked the
small heads they had and the long yellow beaks and the little black eyes
and the harsh cry ... and he had almost sickened when he saw them
feeding on the entrails that were thrown to them by the fishermen....
But now, since he had fallen in love with Sheila Morgan, it seemed to
him that everything in the world was beautiful; and lying here in the
long grass, he yielded himself to the loveliness of the earth. He lay
back and closed his eyes and listened to the sounds that filled the air,
the noise of pleased, tired things at peace and the subdued songs of
roosting birds. He could hear shouts from the labourers in the distant
hayfields and, now and then, the slow rattle of a country cart as it
moved clumsily along the uneven roads that led from the fields to the
farmyards. There was a drowsy buzz of insects that mingled oddly with
the burble of the stream and the lowing of the cattle.... He lay there
and listened to a lark as it flew up from the ground with a queer,
agitated flutter of wings, watching it as it ascended high and higher
until it became a tiny speck, and then he sat up and watched it as it
descended again, still flying with that queer, agitated flutter of
wings, until it came near the earth, when its song suddenly ceased and
it changed its flight and fell swiftly to its nest.

He rose up from the grass and walked over to the stream and dipped his
hands into it, splashing the water on to the grass beside him. The
sunlight shone on his hand and made the wet hairs shine like golden
threads....

5

He was kneeling there at the side of the stream, looking at the wet glow
of his hand when the fear of death came to him, and instantly he was
terrified when he thought that he might die. The consciousness of life
was in him and the desire to continue and to experience and to know were
quickening and increasing. It seemed to him then that if he were to die
at that moment, he