Capitolo 82
has you/he/she established in Your his/her own mind that direction that he has taken?"
"Well enough. I judge from analogy. Lina, Your brother was drawn on
was the Country Of the west, not?"
Mrs. Mallet gave a tired sign. "In north Devon", she responded; "on the
wild stretching of heath on Hartland and Clovelly."
Hilda Wade seemed to pick up him. "The Mr. The Geyts it is now essentially,
a Celt--a Celt in temperament", she followed; "he comes from origin and
ancestry from a raw country, heather-dressed; he belongs to the heath.
In the other words, its type is the mountaineer. But a mountaineer
is instinct in similar circumstances--that that? Because, to fly right to his
native mountains. In an agony of terror, in an access of the desperation when
all the other errors, he strikes a bee-line for the hills that he loves; rationally
or irrationally, he seems to think that he can hide there. Hugo Her Geyt, with
his/her nature of boy and frank, the great his/her Devonians frame, it is sure to have done
then. I know his/her humor. He has constituted the Country Of the west!"
"You are, you straighten, Hilda", her Mrs. Mallet exclaimed, with sentence. "I am
rather sure, from what I know about Hugo, that to go to the west would be
his/her first impulse."
"And the Her Geyts is governed by first impulses" always, my
character-reader added.
You were right. From the duration us two were together to Oxford--me
as an university student, him as a teacher of a college--I had always noticed that it marked line of the face
in the temperament of my dear old friend.
After a short break, Hilda broke again the silence. "The sea again; the
sea! The Her Geytses love the water. It was there some place on the sea where
he went a lot as a boy--some solitary place, I mean, in that north Devon
district?"
Mrs. Mallet reflected a moment. "Yes, there was a small bay--a lake
opening in tall cliffs, with the huts of some fishermen and some enclosures
of beach--where he spent a lot of his/her parties. It was a
interruption that strange-looks in a sea-wall surly of stones dark-redheads, where the tide