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yet there; shining dim but constant through the rain。 I tried to walk again: I dragged my exhausted limbs slowly towards it。 It led me aslant over the hill; through a wide bog; which would have been impassable in winter; and was splashy and shaking even now; in the height of summer。 Here I fell twice; but as often I rose and rallied my faculties。 This light was my forlorn hope: I must gain it。
Having crossed the marsh; I saw a trace of white over the moor。 I approached it; it was a road or a track: it led straight up to the light; which now beamed from a sort of knoll; amidst a clump of trees—firs; apparently; from what I could distinguish of the character of their forms and foliage through the gloom。 My star vanished as I drew near: some obstacle had intervened between me and it。 I put out my hand to feel the dark mass before me: I discriminated the rough stones of a low wall—above it; something like palisades; and within; a high and prickly hedge。 I groped on。 Again a whitish object gleamed before me: it was a gate—a wicket; it moved on its hinges as I touched it。 On each side stood a sable bush…holly or yew。
Entering the gate and passing the shrubs; the silhouette of a house rose to view; black; low; and rather long; but the guiding light shone nowhere。 All was obscurity。 Were the inmates retired to rest? I feared it must be so。 In seeking the door; I turned an angle: there shot out the friendly gleam again; from the lozenged panes of a very small latticed window; within a foot of the ground; made still smaller by the growth of ivy or some other creeping plant; whose leaves clustered thick over the portion of the house wall in which it was set。 The aperture was so screened and narrow; that curtain or shutter had been deemed unnecessary; and when I stoop
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