Behind her the white water of the beck flowed steeply down from shelf to shelf; beyond the beck rose far-receding walls of mountain, purple on purple, blue on blue.

Light, scantily nourished trees, sycamore or mountain-ash, climbed the green sides of the ghyll, and framed the woman's form.

She sat on a stone, bending over a frail new-born lamb upon her lap, whereof the mother lay beside her.

Against her knee leaned a fair-haired child.

The pitiful concern in the woman's lovely eyes was reflected in the soft wonder of the child's.
Both, it seemed, were of the people.