these regions—should pick my flesh from my bones; than that they should be prisoned in a workhouse coffin and moulder in a pauper’s grave。”
To the hill; then; I turned。 I reached it。 It remained now only to find a hollow where I could lie down; and feel at least hidden; if not secure。 But all the surface of the waste looked level。 It showed no variation but of tint: green; where rush and moss overgrew the marshes; black; where the dry soil bore only heath。 Dark as it was getting; I could still see these changes; though but as mere alternations of light and shade; for colour had faded with the daylight。
My eye still roved over the sullen swell and along the moor…edge; vanishing amidst the wildest scenery; when at one dim point; far in among the marshes and the ridges; a light sprang up。 “That is an ignis fatuus;” was my first thought; and I expected it would soon vanish。 It burnt on; however; quite steadily; neither receding nor advancing。 “Is it; then; a bonfire just kindled?” I questioned。 I watched to see whether it would spread: but no; as it did not diminish; so it did not enlarge。 “It may be a candle in a house;” I then conjectured; “but if so; I can never reach it。 It is much too far away: and were it within a yard of me; what would it avail? I should but knock at the door to have it shut in my face。”
And I sank down where I stood; and hid my face against the ground。 I lay still a while: the night…wind swept over the hill and over me; and died moaning in the distance; the rain fell fast; wetting me afresh to the skin。 Could I but have stiffened to the still frost— the friendly numbness of death—it might have pelted on; I should not have felt it; but my yet living flesh shuddered at its chilling influence。 I rose ere long。
The light was