CHAPTER IV
ON THE MOUNTAIN
The long journey was over. A company of grave-faced men had met Joseph at a little wayside station. On one side stretched the sea, on the other great mountains towered up into the still, morning air.
It was early dawn. The sun in its first glory sent floods of joyous light over the placid waters. How splendid the air was—this ozone-laden breeze of the ocean—how cool, invigorating, and sweet!
Joseph turned to a tall, white-haired old man who seemed to be the leader of the band of people who stood upon the platform.
"I have come to a new world," he said simply.
"Blessed be the name of the Lord who has sent you to Wales," came the answer in deep and fervent tones.
Joseph looked at the man and his companions with astonishment. Why had Lluellyn Lys, the mysterious recluse and hermit of the mountains, sent these people to meet him? Why was there such a look of respect, almost of awe, upon the face of each man there, such eagerness and anticipation? It was all incomprehensible, utterly strange. He felt at a loss what to do or say.
He bowed, and then, as if in a dream, mingled with the group and passed out of the station. A carriage with two horses was waiting. By the side of it stood the station-master; the man's peaked cap was in his hand, and his face was lit up with welcome.
"The Teacher is waiting for you, sir," he said.