Explore "The Last Lemurian: A Westralian Romance" by G. Firth Scott on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE heat of the sun shining down upon me awakened me, and, as I sat up, I uttered an involuntary exclamation at the beauty of the scene before my eyes.
I was lying on what was evidently the rim of a huge rocky crater. It was filled almost to the brim with water, which caught the clear blue of the cloudless sky overhead and reflected it back in its full, rich intensity of colour, save where surface ripples were touched by the golden sunlight and flashed and glittered in streaks of liquid fire. The pathway along which I had wandered in the dark was the rim of the cup-shaped crater, not always so smooth as where I was, for some distance away and farther round, I saw a jagged broken wall rising into queer, fantastic shapes, which, in the darkness, I had mistaken for the loom of tree shadows. I looked away across the water to where the pathway appeared to run into a solid block of stone on the nearest side of which I could see, as a dark patch, the opening through which I had emerged.