My glazed eye wandered over the dim and misty landscape. I saw I

had strayed far from the village: it was quite out of sight. The

very cultivation surrounding it had disappeared. I had, by cross-

ways and by-paths, once more drawn near the tract of moorland; and

now, only a few fields, almost as wild and unproductive as the heath

from which they were scarcely reclaimed, lay between me and the

dusky hill.

"Well, I would rather die yonder than in a street or on a frequented

road," I reflected. "And far better that crows and ravens--if any

ravens there be in these regions--should pick my flesh from my

bones, than that they should be prisoned in a workhouse coffin and

moulder in a pauper's grave."

To the hill, then, I turned. I reached it. It remained now only to

find a hollow where I could lie down, and feel at least hidden, if

not secure. But all the surface of the waste looked level. It

showed no variation but of tint: green, where rush and moss

overgrew the marshes; black, where the dry soil bore only heath.

Dark as it was getting, I could still see these changes, though but

as mere alternations of light and shade; for colour had faded with

the daylight.

My eye still roved over the sullen swell and along the moor-edge,

vanishing amidst the wildest scenery, when at one dim point, far in

among the marshes and the ridges, a light sprang up. "That is an

ignis fatuus," was my first thought; and I expected it would soon

vanish. It burnt on, however, quite steadily, neither receding nor

advancing. "Is it, then, a bonfire just kindled?" I questioned. I

watched to see whether it would spread: but no; as it did not

diminish, so it did not enlarge. "It may be a candle in a house," I

then conjectured; "but if so, I can never reach it. It is much too

far away: and were it within a yard of me, what would it avail? I

should but knock at the door to have it shut in my face."

And I sank down where I stood, and hid my face against the 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.




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024