Explore "A Daughter of Israel" by Fred M. White on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
On the incense-burdened air, odorous from Nature's spicy breathings, there floated a babble of melody, falling like a plummet from the heavens, as a lark sailing upwards brimmed over with the music of his soul. Like a wide-spreading sheet of glimmering jewels the sea stretched away into the faint, luminous distance, silent and lonely, save where the sun lingered on a far-off sail, and flushed it with a golden glory, or a white-winged gull flashed like a silver scimitar against the boundless blue. The tiny waves, curled in breaking upon the velvet sands, splashing the rocky sentinels, impervious to storm or tempest as they had been for generations. Seven years had been a brief day in their long lives. So quiet was it there that it seemed hard to believe in the smoking chimneys and roaring furnaces of Westport, only four miles away, except when you turned from the ocean contemplation inland to look towards the drifting pall behind.
It was so quiet and beautiful there on this perfect summer afternoon that one might have felt inclined to wonder that no one had chosen the fair seclusion of the hoary rocks for idle contemplation. But there were two people there gazing seaward and hidden from human ken, as was but natural, for they were lovers, and her head rested upon his shoulder, whilst his arm was round her waist. They seemed like someone we have seen before, alike and yet different, till we realize that seven years ago Hazael Abraham must have been younger than he looks now.