As he walked and munched the soft bread from his scrip, it seemed strange to him to feel that it was still warm from the ovens of Beaulieu.
When he passed Penerley, where were three cottages and a barn, he reached the edge of the tree country, and found the great barren heath of Blackdown stretching in front of him, all pink with heather and bronzed with the fading ferns.

On the left the woods were still thick, but the road edged away from them and wound over the open.

The sun lay low in the west upon a purple cloud, whence it threw a mild, chastening light over the wild moorland and glittered on the fringe of forest turning the withered leaves into flakes of dead gold, the brighter for the black depths behind them.

To the seeing eye decay is as fair as growth, and death as life.

The thought stole into Alleyne's heart as he looked upon the autumnal country side and marvelled at its beauty.