Part 9 (1/2)

”But what trees are these?” said Margaret, with a sudden change of tone as they reached the summit.

”I am afraid they are beeches,” said he. He ran forward, and found that they were. There were no firs. Margaret's heart sank; the disappointment was very great.

”Look once more,” he said. ”From this height there is a better view.

See, there are three copses round us; is either like the Firs?”

”They are all just alike,” she said, in a troubled tone; then pleadingly, ”Geoffrey--_think_.”

”There are the stars still,” he said.

”Ah, yes,” eagerly, and looking up. ”I know the north star; there it is,” pointing to the faint sparkle that has been the lamp of hope to so many weary hearts on foaming ocean and trackless plain. ”And the Great Bear; the men call it d.i.c.k and His Team; it s.h.i.+nes every night opposite my window, over the dovecot. Why, of course, all we have to do is to turn our backs to it, and ride straight to Greene Ferne.”

”Not quite, I fear,” smiling at her impetuosity, for she was turning Kitty's head. ”You see we should start from a different base, and our straight line might be projected for eternity before it came to your window.”

”Then what's the use of astronomy?” said Margaret promptly.

”Well--really,”--puzzled to give a direct reply, ”the difficulty is the longitude. But tell me, are there any roads crossing the Downs?”

”One or two, I think.”

”Then we will go towards the north star; that will at least keep us in a straight line, and prevent us from going round in a circle. Sooner or later we must cross a road.”

”Is that all the stars can do for us?”

”Under present circ.u.mstances--yes.”

They descended the slope; on the level ground he began to run, urging the tired mare to trot.

”Do not do that,” she said; ”you will be quite knocked up.”

”I do not mind in the least--for your sake. It is getting late, and we must hasten.”

He was now seriously anxious, for her sake, to seek a road, and pushed on as hard as he could. The mare, however, walked up the next rise; at the summit, Margaret pointed to the east.

”The clouds are coming up,” she said. Low down was a dark bank--a thicker night--rising swiftly, blotting out the stars one by one.

Another burst forwards, and another walk, as Geoffrey began to feel the exertion.

The ”messengers”--small detached clouds, that precede the rest--were already pa.s.sing overhead. The white glow on the northern horizon, indicating the position of the summer sun just beneath, was covered. On three sides the edges of the cloud rose up and began to meet above. ”I trust it will not rain,” thought Geoffrey.

”It is getting still warmer,” said Margaret presently; ”the Great Bear is hidden now.” Under the ma.s.s of vapour the temperature, warm before, became sultry and oppressive.

”Stand up!” said Geoffrey sharply to the mare, as they descended a steeper slope, and she stumbled. Then to Margaret, ”The mist is gone.”

It had insensibly disappeared as the clouds came over; they had now covered the sky, and it was dark.

”Will it thunder?” she asked anxiously. ”It is very hot, and I believe I felt a drop of rain--and another.”

”Only heat-drops,” said Geoffrey, but his mind misgave him. The clouds swept over at a rapid pace, yet there was no breeze; they were carried on an aerial current far above the earth. The pole star was hidden; still Geoffrey kept on walking as fast as he could, trying to keep a straight line. He spoke to and cheered the mare frequently; she stumbled, and seemed nervous. There was an intense electrical tension in the atmosphere.

”Oh, where are we now?” said Margaret, as Kitty's knees rustled against something, and she stopped and dragged at the bridle. ”What is this?”

In the gloom a white s.h.i.+mmering surface stretched out.