Original (inglés)

CHAPTER XXXV THE RIDE IN THE WRONG DIRECTION That pure opaque of the line of downs ran luminously edged against the pearly morning sky, with its dark landward face crepusculine yet clear in every combe, every dotting copse and furze-bush, every wavy fall, and the ripple, crease, and rill-like descent of the turf. Beauty of darkness was there, as well as beauty of light above. Beauchamp and Cecilia rode forth before the sun was over the line, while the West and North-west sides of