clouds had now gathered about it so thickly as to hide the elm clump; still I looked, and looked, as if I were determined to see through the clouds. And as I looked I became conscious of a curious buzzing in my ears which was quite unaccountable. It got stronger, and soon became a deep vibrating hum like a bass organ pipe, which began to alarm me. I tried to turn and walk briskly away: I could not. Nor could I wrest my attention from that mysterious hill. It had changed, Lesbia, it had changed like a dissolving view: it no longer looked like itself.’
‘Poor Screechowl Hill! it had followed your example, then, mamma dear!’
But though Lesbia thus affected to treat it gaily, a feeling of strong interest was coming over her.
‘The clouds now shifted about,’ pursued Mrs Newman, ‘so that I had glimpses of the hillside between their openings, and I saw that it had changed; it had become much higher, much steeper, much nearer. There were no trees on it now, but on the top was an old white stone windmill without arms, or it may have been an old dilapidated lighthouse, I couldn’t say which. With a great effort I turned to look on my left: I felt impelled to do so. And then, Lesbie, I was astounded to see that Lord Humnoddie’s garden and park and house had all disappeared, and in their place was a great sheet of calm water stretching away out of sight under a white fog. It might have been a lake, but I think it was the sea, because there were gulls in great numbers flying about over it and calling to each other in a state of wild excitement. I now could look backwards and forwards, sometimes at the old lighthouse on the hill-top, sometimes at the smooth foggy sea, that deep humming sound in my ears increasing all the while, and gradually altering into another sound, a sound as if hundreds and hundreds of people were beating carpets on the land, both
