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Updated: June 6, 2025
"You must get stronger first, for you look as if the wind on Bessmoor would blow you away altogether." "Yes, I don't feel quite like getting on a horse yet or, in fact, like doing anything at all except sitting here with you. When will you sing to me again, Phil?" "Any time you like," she replied. "But not to-day, because I think the authorities might object. Wait a day or two."
Bessmoor is looking rather weepy but very beautiful, smiling after tears like a pretty child." "You surely did not wait for me in all the wet weather we have been having?"
"Well, never mind," said Miss Vernon quickly. "Do not settle now, but come when you can. If you walk along this road I am pretty certain to see you. I spend my life on Bessmoor, and I should like to teach you to appreciate its beauties as they deserve." "I shall certainly try to come, and I think you would find me a willing pupil," said Philippa with a smile.
"I had been watching the sunset, and the moor seemed so solitary." "It is. That is why I love it. Dear Bessmoor. Ever changing, yet ever the same suiting all moods sympathetic enveloping. I have a cottage in the heart of her, where I live the simple life, which I like, but which for most people is a synonym for few baths and many discomforts. Do you live near here?" "No, I am only staying here."
I remember once when he was much smaller we were walking on Bessmoor where you get such a wonderful view he looked up and said, 'Does God live up there? and I said, 'Yes, because it was the only answer you could give a baby to such a question. 'Above the weeny woolly clouds? he persisted. 'Yes, I said again.
Rob said to-day that unless I had another set-back I might go down-stairs in a day or two." "That is good news indeed," said Philippa warmly. "And soon you will be able to go out and see all the beauty of Bessmoor for yourself. We will have the pony-carriage and I will drive you as soon as ever he thinks you are fit for it."
For reasons of my own I wanted to be in this part of the world. To me there is ever a healing strength in wide spaces, and Bessmoor has been my best friend. And if the leaves of memory make a rustling at times, I am glad of it. I do not want to forget. By this I do not mean I spend my time in weaving withered wreaths for the past I don't; but I do not forget.
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