By David Lindsay
This paintings is an intriguingly written paintings of fiction in order to captivate the reader. whereas traveling his far-off relative Ingrid Fletcher, Hugh Drapier, a Highland Scot, asks her to take him to the weird rock formation referred to as Devil's Tor. The formation resembles the pinnacle of a gargoyle. As they're the rock, lightning moves it, exposing an underground tomb. Hugh investigates the tomb and sees a gorgeous lady seem on a stone desk in the course of the tomb. The imaginative and prescient fades away. additional into the tomb, Hugh reveals a stone just like one Ingrid has. via watching on the stones, one other global is published.
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Extra info for Devil's Tor
Example text
It must be the beginning of the sublime, though I've never been on this hill long enough to follow it up. Perhaps one would need to be solitary here for weeks, months or years. I wish I could learn the connection. " "There might be good reasons, Hugh. Robbers of grave-treasure were to be supernaturally scared, or the tribe was under the protection of that demon-god, or the tower itself may be artificial, the portrait a later natural freak. You mustn't believe that I am trying to explain things.
Honestly, I never heard of the Tor before yesterday," he persisted. Ingrid was troubled, but again might not contradict him in mind. The site of the destruction became once more veiled from them by the rolling white vapours that were the legacy of the storm, making of the hill-top a cauldron. Thunder still growled from the west, but there was now no lightning with it, and the rain had left off. The fair weather of weeks past seemed suddenly to have vanished, to make way for the more characteristic Dartmoor grey skies and mists.
He also admired the fineness and colour, of palest gold, of the curling fall of her otherwise smooth hair, clinging to her nape to emphasise its purity of whiteness. In the remembered oval of her face the features for delicacy and length had surely attained the precise focus of beauty, between mere prettiness on the one hand and unpleasing strength on the other. Her long mouth was strange and lovely; it might be passionate, but he could not imagine her sexual. Her grey-blue eyes, in their perfect orbits, were the hardest of all to decipher.