"I only came here yesterday," said he, as a widening in the path
permitted them to walk abreast. "Last night I went to the higher
waterfalls; they are most splendid."
"Did you go out in all that rain?" asked Ruth timidly.
"Oh, yes. Rain never hinders me from walking. Indeed, it gives a
new beauty to such a country as this. Besides, my time for my
excursion is so short, I cannot afford to waste a day."
"Then you do not live here?" asked Ruth.
"No! my home is in a very different place. I live in a busy town,
where at times it is difficult to feel the truth that
'There are in this loud stunning tide Of human care and crime,
With whom the melodies abide Of th' everlasting chime; Who carry
music in their heart Through dusky lane and crowded mart, Plying
their task with busier feet, Because their secret souls a holy
strain repeat.'
I have an annual holiday, which I generally spend in Wales; and
often in this immediate neighbourhood."
"I do not wonder at your choice," replied Ruth. "It is a
beautiful country."
"It is, indeed; and I have been inoculated by an old inn-keeper
at Conway with a love for its people, and history, and
traditions. I have picked up enough of the language to understand
many of their legends; and some are very fine and awe-inspiring,
others very poetic and fanciful."
Ruth was too shy to keep up the conversation by any remark of her
own, although his gentle, pensive manner was very winning.
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