midday
A lady of the pools , with the dark eyes and red-gold hair of the north , surely a creature of dawn and the blue sky , and born for no dreary self-communings . She returned , with her eyes clear and something like laughter in her heart . To-morrow she should see him , to-morrow ! * * * * * It was the utter burning silence of midday , when the man who toils loses the skin of his face , and the man who rests tastes the joys of deep leisure . The blue , airless sky , the level hilltops , the straight lines of glen , the treeless horizon of the moors -- no sharp ridge or cliff caught the tired eye , only an even , sleep-lulled harmony . Five very hungry , thirsty , and wearied men lay in the shadow above the Pool of Ness , and prayed heaven for luncheon . Lewis and George , Wratislaw and Arthur Mordaunt were there , and Doctor Gracey , who loved a day on the hills .