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ground. I lay still a while: the night-wind swept over the hill and
over me, and died moaning in the distance; the rain fell fast, wetting
me afresh to the skin. Could I but have stiffened to the still
frost- the friendly numbness of death- it might have pelted on; I
should not have felt it; but my yet living flesh shuddered at its
chilling influence. I rose ere long.
The light was yet there, shining dim but constant through the rain.
I tried to walk again: I dragged my exhausted limbs slowly towards it.
It led me aslant over the hill, through a wide bog, which would have
been impassable in winter, and was splashy and shaking even now, in
the height of summer. Here I fell twice; but as often I rose and
rallied my faculties. This light was my forlorn hope: I must gain it.
Having crossed the marsh, I saw a trace of white over the moor. I
approached it; it was a road or a track: it led straight up to the
light, which now beamed from a sort of knoll, amidst a clump of trees-
firs, apparently, from what I could distinguish of the character of
their forms and foliage through the gloom. My star vanished as I
drew near: some obstacle had intervened between me and it. I put out
my hand to feel the dark mass before me: I discriminated the rough
stones of a low wall- above it, something like palisades, and
within, a high and prickly hedge. I groped on. Again a whitish
object gleamed before me: it was a gate- a wicket; it moved on its
hinges as I touched it. On each side stood a sable bush- holly or yew.
Entering the gate and passing the shrubs, the silhouette of a house
rose to view, black, low, and rather long; but the guiding light shone
nowhere. All was obscurity. Were the inmates retired to rest? I feared
it must be so. In seeking the door, I turned an angle: there shot
out the friendly gleam again, from the lozenged panes of a very
small latticed window, within a foot of the ground, made still smaller
by the growth of ivy or some other creeping plant, whose leaves
clustered thick over the portion of the house wall in which it was
set. The aperture was so screened and narrow, that curtain or
shutter had been deemed unnecessary; and when I stooped down and put
aside the spray of foliage shooting over it, I could see all within. I
could see clearly a room with a sanded floor, clean scoured; a dresser
of walnut, with pewter plates ranged in rows, reflecting the redness
and radiance of a glowing peat-fire. I could see a clock, a white deal
table, some chairs. The candle, whose ray had been my beacon, burnt on
the table; and by its light an elderly woman, somewhat
rough-looking, but scrupulously clean, like all about her, was
knitting a stocking.
I noticed these objects cursorily only- in them there was nothing
extraordinary. A group of more interest appeared near the hearth,
sitting still amidst the rosy peace and warmth suffusing it. Two
young, graceful women- ladies in every point- sat, one in a low