Page 261 - sons-and-lovers

They set off again gaily, looking round on their beloved
manor that stood so clean and big on its hill.
‘Supposing you could have THAT farm,’ said Paul to
Miriam.
‘Yes!’
‘Wouldn’t it be lovely to come and see you!’
They were now in the bare country of stone walls, which
he loved, and which, though only ten miles from home,
seemed so foreign to Miriam. The party was straggling. As
they were crossing a large meadow that sloped away from
the sun, along a path embedded with innumerable tiny glit-
tering points, Paul, walking alongside, laced his fingers in
the strings of the bag Miriam was carrying, and instantly
she felt Annie behind, watchful and jealous. But the mead-
ow was bathed in a glory of sunshine, and the path was
jewelled, and it was seldom that he gave her any sign. She
held her fingers very still among the strings of the bag, his
fingers touching; and the place was golden as a vision.
At last they came into the straggling grey village of Crich,
that lies high. Beyond the village was the famous Crich
Stand that Paul could see from the garden at home. The par-
ty pushed on. Great expanse of country spread around and
below. The lads were eager to get to the top of the hill. It was
capped by a round knoll, half of which was by now cut away,
and on the top of which stood an ancient monument, sturdy
and squat, for signalling in old days far down into the level
lands of Nottinghamshire and Leicestershire.
It was blowing so hard, high up there in the exposed
place, that the only way to be safe was to stand nailed by the

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