Thus ended Elfrida's darkened life; nor did it seem an unfit end; for it
was as if she had fallen into the arms of the maiden who had in her
thoughts become one with the stream--the saintly Editha through whose
sacrifice and intercession she had been saved from death everlasting.
AN OLD THORN
[Illustration: HAWTHORN AND IVY NEAR THE GREAT RIDGE WOOD.]
I
The little village of Ingden lies in a hollow of the South Wiltshire
Downs, the most isolated of the villages in that lonely district. Its
one short street is crossed at right angles in the middle part by the
Salisbury road, and standing just at that point, the church on one hand,
the old inn on the other, you can follow it with the eye for a distance
of nearly three miles. First it goes winding up the low down under which
the village stands, then vanishes over the brow to reappear again a mile
and a half further away as a white band on the vast green slope of the
succeeding down, which rises to a height of over 600 feet. On the summit
it vanishes once more, but those who use it know it for a laborious road
crossing several high ridges before dropping down into the valley road
leading to Salisbury.
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