Still, the picture he drew of our future existence was by no means all
in dark colors, for with the enthusiasm of an artist he described the
glories of the Highlands, the ever-varying skies, the effects of light
and shadow on the mountains, the beauties of the lovely isles, and the
charm of sailing on the moonlit and mysterious lake. He also made me
acquainted with the numerous legends of Loch Awe (he had told them in
verse, but I was ignorant of English), which would lend a romantic
atmosphere to our island-home. He was so sensitive to the different
moods of nature that his descriptions gave to a town-bred girl like me
an intense desire to witness them with my own eyes; and when I did see
them there was no _desillusion_, and the effect was so overpowering that
it seemed like the revelation of a new sense in me. The first glimpse I
had of Loch Awe, from the top of the coach, was like the realization of
a fantastic and splendid dream; I could not believe it to be a reality,
and thought of some mirage; but my husband was delighted by this first
impression.
We reached Innistrynich shortly before nightfall, and I was taken to the
keeper's cottage to warm myself, whilst the luggage was being conveyed
across the bay to the house. Though it was the end of May, the weather
had been so cold all the way that I felt almost benumbed after the
drive; for, being accustomed to the climate of France, I had taken but
scanty precautions in the way of wraps, believing them to be superfluous
at that time of the year.
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