Along the bank of the river he wandered, through the rain above and the
wet grass below, to the high road, stood for a moment on the bridge
gazing at the muddy Glamour, which came down bank-full,--Annie saw him
from Tibbie's window as he stood,--and then turned and followed its
course below the bridge through a wild, and now dismal country, to
where the waters met. It was getting dusk when he reached the place.
With what a roar the Wan Water came down its rocks, rushing from its
steeper course into the slow incline of the Glamour! A terrible country
they came from--those two ocean-bound rivers--up among the hill-tops.
There on the desolate peat-mosses, spongy, black, and cold, the rain
was pouring into the awful holes whence generations had dug their fuel,
and into the natural chasms of the earth, soaking the soil, and sending
torrents, like the flaxen hair of a Titanic Naiad, rolling into the
bosom of the rising river-god below. The mist hung there, darkening
everything with its whiteness, ever sinking in slow fall upon the
slippery peat and the heather and the gray old stones. By and by the
pools would be filled, and the hidden caves; their sides would give
way; the waters would rush from the one into the other, and from all
down the hill-sides, and the earth-sponge would be drained off.
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