Our light was within us, and it shone
more brightly when we confined ourselves to the house during the long
darkness of November evenings, with the moaning of the autumnal winds
around us, and the first rattling of the sleet and hail against the
windows. The wintry rain seemed to throw us back upon ourselves, and to
cry aloud: Hasten to say all that is yet untold in your hearts, and all
that must be spoken before man and woman die, for I am the voice of the
evil days that are near at hand to part you!
XXVIII.
We visited together, in succession, every creek and cove, or sandy
beach of the lake, every mountain pass or ridge; every grotto or remote
valley; every cascade hidden among the rocks of Savoy. We saw more
sublime or smiling landscapes, more mysterious solitudes, more
enchanted deserts, more cottages hanging on the mountain brow half-way
between the clouds and the abyss, more foaming waters in the sloping
meadows, more forests of dark pines disclosing their gloomy colonnades
and echoing our steps beneath their domes, than might have hidden a
whole world of lovers.
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