I
should have remembered more consistently that they were no ordinary
men. As I was destined to find, there lay a deeper, more cabalistic
meaning in the motto than any I had been able to dream of. I had
proceeded on my pilgrimage down the river a long way past Greenwich,
and had now reached a desolate and level reach of land stretching away
on either hand. Paddling my boat from the right to the left bank, I
came to a spot where a little arm of the river ran up some few yards
into the land. The place wore a specially dreary and deserted aspect:
the land was flat, and covered with low shrubs. I rowed into this arm
of shallow water and rested on my oar, wearily bethinking myself what
was next to be done. Looking round, however, I saw to my surprise that
at the end of this arm there was a short narrow pathway--a winding
road--leading from the river-bank. I stood up in the boat and followed
its course with my eyes. It was met by another road also winding among
the bushes, but in a slightly different direction. At the end of this
was a little, low, high-roofed, round house, without doors or windows.
And then--and then--tingling now with a thousand raptures--I beheld a
pool of water near this structure, and then another low house, a
counterpart of the first--and then, still leading on in the same
direction, another pool--and then a great rock, heart-shaped--and then
another winding road--and then another pool of water.
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