A sight so wonderful that he found himself holding in
his! breath lest a puff should drive it all away.
That same evening, too, was a glory of colour such as he had never
dreamed of. The setting sun was ruby; red, and the cloud-bank into which
he sank was all rimmed with red fire that seemed to corruscate in its
burning brilliancy.
To Gard indeed, in the somewhat peculiar state of mind induced by his
sudden cutting-off from his kind and flinging back upon himself, it
seemed as though the blood-red sun had fallen into a vast consuming fire
behind that dark, fire-rimmed cloud, and that that was the end of it,
and it would never rise again.
The sky, right away into the farthest east, was flaming red with a hint
of underlying smoke below the glow. The sea was a weltering bath of
blood, and the cliffs of Sark, save for the gleam of white foam at their
feet, shone as red as though they had just been bodily dipped in it.
His lonely rock, when he looked round at it in wonder, was all
unfamiliarly red. There was a red fantastic glow in the very air, and he
himself was as red as though he had in very fact killed Tom Hamon, and
drenched himself with his blood.
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