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It lasted until the next day's westering sun made a pale, bluish glimmer through the upper part of the drift that covered the fallen tree and filled up the hollow.
Celia told him this on the third day, late in the afternoon so late that the westering sun was already touching the crests of the oak woods, and all the thickets had turned softly purple like the bloom on a plum; the mounting scent of phlox from the garden was growing sweeter, and the bats fluttered and dipped and soared in the calm evening sky.
The sun is westering from the dell, Thy wish is granted fare thee well!"
So much I saw at the waking glance; and then I realized, vaguely at first, but presently with startling emphasis, that it was the westering sun which was shining in at the high roof windows, that the shackles were still on, and that my temples were throbbing with a most skull-splitting headache.
And by and by the sun went westering down the hill, and he shook himself out of his dreams, and pocketed his book and turned homeward. His day, he thought, had not amounted to much after all, and he would spend the evening in sober study, and not dream any more until bedtime.
Within was a paddock, and beyond another fence, and beyond that a great pile of blackened timber. The place was so smiling and homelike under the westering sun that one looked to see a trim steading with the smoke of hearth fires ascending, and to hear the cheerful sounds of labour and of children's voices. Instead there was this grim, charred heap, with the light winds swirling the ashes.
Dymock's heart was too full to permit him to speak; "it stands there, Sir, and is as noble an object as my eye ever fell upon. The Tower," continued the old man, "at this minute, lies directly under the only dark cloud now in the heavens; nevertheless, a slanting ray from the westering sun now falls on its highest turret; look on, Sir, and say wherever have you seen a grander object?"
The nurse raised the blind a little, and the light of the westering sun fell across the pillow, revealing a small, dark head which turned eagerly at the sound of Hugh's entrance. "Hugh!" The voice from the bed came faintly. Hugh looked down at his wife. Probably never had Diane looked more beautiful.
"Ye are the temple of the living God; as God hath said, I will dwell in them, and walk in them." The sun was westering as the darkness rolled away from the completed sacrifice.
These were the palmy days of the stage, when blank verse flourished, and every serious play had to begin like this: Scene. A place without. Rinaldo discovered dying. Enter Marco. Mar. What ho, Rinaldo! Lo, the horned moon Dims the cold radiance of the westering stars, Pale sentinels of the approaching dawn. How now, Rinaldo? Rin. Marco, I am dying, Struck down by Tomasino's treacherous hand. Mar.
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