t
bear it. He was frightened deeply, and coldly, frightened in his soul.
He did not believe in his own strength any more. He could not fall into
this infinite void, and rise again. If he fell, he would be gone for
ever. He must withdraw, he must seek reinforcements. He did not believe
in his own single self, any further than this.

After dinner, faced with the ultimate experience of his own
nothingness, he turned aside. He pulled on his boots, put on his coat,
and set out to walk in the night.

It was dark and misty. He went through the wood, stumbling and feeling
his way to the Mill. Birkin was away. Good--he was half glad. He turned
up the hill, and stumbled blindly over the wild slopes, having lost the
path in the complete darkness. It was boring. Where was he going? No
matter. He stumbled on till he came to a path again. Then he went on
through another wood. His mind became dark, he went on automatically.
Without thought or sensation, he stumbled unevenly on, out into the
open again, fumbling for stiles, losing the path, and going along the
hedges of the fields till he came to the outlet.

And at last he came to the high road. It had distracted him to struggle
blindly through the maze of darkness. But now, he must take a
direction. And he did not even know where he was. But he must take a
direction now. Nothing would be resolved by merely walking, walking
away. He had to take a direction.

He stood still on the road, that was high in the utterly dark night,
and he did not know where he was. It was a strange sensation, his heart
beating, and ringed round with the utterly unknown darkness. So he
stood for some time.

Then he heard footsteps, and saw a small, swinging light. He
immediately went towards this. It was a miner.

'Can you tell me,' he said, 'where this road goes?'

'Road? Ay, it goes ter Whatmore.'

'Whatmore! Oh thank you, that's right. I thought I was wrong.
Good-night.'

'Good-night,' replied the broad voice of the miner.

Gerald guessed where he was. At least, when he came to Whatmore, he
would know. He was glad to be on a high road. He walked forward as in a
sleep of decision.

That was Whatmore Village--? Yes, the King's Head--and there the hall
gates. He descended the steep hill almost running. Winding through the
hollow, he passed the Grammar School, and came to Willey Green Church.
The churchyard! He halted.

Then in another moment he had clambered up the wall and was going among
t