ge to his natural fears. He perceived that it had
grown very dark and lonely. The rain, falling sheer, seemed to shut him
into a queer wintry world. All around the land echoed with the steady
drum of it, and the rumour of swollen runnels. A wild bird wailed out of
the mist and startled Mr. Lovel like a ghost. He heard the sound of men
talking and drew rein; it was only a larger burn foaming by the wayside.
The sky was black above him, yet a faint grey light seemed to linger,
for water glimmered and he passed what seemed to be the edge of a
loch.... At another time the London-bred citizen would have been only
peevish, for Heaven knew he had faced ill weather before in ill
places. But the fiery stuff he had swallowed had woke a feverish fancy.
Exaltation suddenly changed to foreboding.

He halted and listened. Nothing but the noise of the weather, and the
night dark around him like a shell. For a moment he fancied he caught
the sound of horses, but it was not repeated. Where did this accursed
track mean to lead him? Long ago he should have been in the valley and
nearing Brampton. He was as wet as if he had wallowed in a pool, cold,
and very weary. A sudden disgust at his condition drove away his fears
and he swore lustily at fortune. He longed for the warmth and the smells
of his favourite haunts--Gilpin's with oysters frizzling in a dozen
pans, and noble odours stealing from the tap-room, the Green Man with
its tripe-suppers, Wanless's Coffee House, noted for its cuts of beef
and its white puddings. He would give much to be in a chair by one
of those hearths and in the thick of that blowsy fragrance. Now his
nostrils were filled with rain and bog water and a sodden world. It
smelt sour, like stale beer in a mouldy cellar. And cold! He crushed
down his hat on his head and precipitated a new deluge.

A bird skirled again in his ear, and his fright returned. He felt small
and alone in a vast inhospitable universe. And mingled with it all was
self-pity, for drink had made him maudlin. He wanted so little--only a
modest comfort, a little ease. He had forgotten that half an hour
before he had been figuring in princes' cabinets. He would give up this
business and be quit of danger and the high road. The Duke must give him
a reasonable reward, and with it he and his child might dwell happily in
some country place. He remembered a cottage at Guildford all hung with
roses.... But the Duke was reputed a miserly patron, and at the t