a road, I could not make it out in the faint
starlight. There was nothing but land: not a
country at all, but the material out of which
countries are made. No, there was nothing
but land -- slightly undulating, I knew, be-
cause often our wheels ground against the
brake as we went down into a hollow and
lurched up again on the other side. I had the
feeling that the world was left behind, that
we had got over the edge of it, and were out-
side man's jurisdiction. I had never before
looked up at the sky when there was not a
familiar mountain ridge against it. But this
was the complete dome of heaven, all there
was of it. I did not believe that my dead
father and mother were watching me from
up there; they would still be looking for me
at the sheep-fold down by the creek, or along
the white road that led to the mountain pas-
tures. I had left even their spirits behind
me. The wagon jolted on, carrying me I
knew not whither. I don't think I was home-
sick. If we never arrived anywhere, it did not
matter. Between that earth and that sky I
felt erased, blotted out. I did not say my
prayers that night: here, I felt, what would
be would be.

[[8]]

p007 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p008w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p009

v?