Afterwards, the rain seemed to have
cleared off a little, and through the yellow twilight a thin stream of
people, driving or on foot, began to pour past the inn, towards the
hills. Helena ran upstairs to put on an oilskin hat and cape over her
white dress.
"You're coming to help light the bonfire?" said Geoffrey,
addressing Philip.
Buntingford shook his head. He turned to Lucy.
"You and I will let the young ones go--won't we? I don't see you climbing
Moel Dun in the rain, and I'm getting too old! We'll walk up the road a
bit, and look at the people as they go by. I daresay we shall see as much
as the other two."
So the other two climbed, alone and almost in silence. Beside them and in
front of them, scattered up and along the twilight fell, were dim groups
of pilgrims bent on the same errand with themselves. It was not much past
nine o'clock, and the evening would have been still light but for the
drizzle of rain and the low-hanging clouds. As it was, those bound for
the beacon-head had a blind climb up the rocks and the grassy slopes that
led to the top.
Pages:
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376