arkness unrolled on either side,
leaving only the road clear and pale, spouting mud, and the rain in
front like a silver veil floating across black velvet. I sat close to
Sir Lionel. I can't tell you how good the sense of his nearness and
protection was, and how glad I felt to know that he hadn't really wanted
to send me away from him. I would have given up anything--no,
_everything_ else in the world just then, for the sake of that
knowledge--except, of course, your dear love. We didn't talk much, but
he is one of those men to whom you don't need to talk. The silence was
like that unerring kind of speech when you can't say the wrong thing if
you try; and if Sir Lionel had said in the wind and darkness: "I have
got to drive the car into the sea, and you and I must die together in
five minutes," I should have answered: "Very well. With you I'm not
afraid." And it would have been true.

The hills looked stupendous before we quite came to them; great bunchy
black humps of night; but they seemed to kneel like docile elephants as
we drew near, to let Apollo mount upon their backs. We passed lovely old
cottages, which in the strange white light of our Bleriots looked flat,
as stage scenery, against that wide-stretched "back-cloth" of inky
velvet. It was like motoring in a dream--one of those dreams born before
you've quite dropped asleep, while your eyes are still open. We tore
through Boscastle, and on to Bude, along an empty road, with the trees
flying by like torn black flags, and the rain giving a glimpse now and
then of tall cliffs, as its veil blew aside. I was never so happy in my
life, and when I just couldn't help saying so to Sir Lionel, what do you
suppose he answered? "That's exactly what I was thinking." And then he
added: "Good girl! Grand little sportswoman! I'm proud of you!"

Presently, once in a while the dazzling radiance of our lamps would die
down and threaten to fail. At last it did fail altogether, and we were
blotted out in the night, as if we had suddenly ceased to exist.
"Carbide all used up," explained Sir Lionel. By this time we were near
Hartland Point (the promontory of Hercules for the ancients) and Sir
Lionel said that the best thing to do was to crawl on slowly until we
should come to Clovelly. There we could leave the car at the top of the
hill, go down to the village, rouse someone at a hotel, get hot coffee,
and wait until dawn, when the lamps would no longer be needed.

We could distingu