d in a
thick white mist, so that had it not been for some huge black shadows
which he recognized as the crests of trees, it would have been
very difficult to discriminate the earth from the sky, and the mist
thickening as he advanced, even these fallacious landmarks threatened to
disappear. He had to walk to Mowbray to catch a night train for London.
Every moment was valuable, but the unexpected and increasing obscurity
rendered his progress slow and even perilous. The contiguity to the
river made every step important. He had according to his calculations
proceeded nearly as far as his old residence, and notwithstanding the
careless courage of youth and the annoyance of relinquishing a project,
intolerable at that season of life, was meditating the expediency of
renouncing that night the attempt on Mowbray and of gaining his former
quarters for shelter. He stopped, as he had stopped several times
before, to calculate rather than to observe. The mist was so thick that
he could not see his own extended hand. It was not the first time that
it had occurred to him that some one or something was hovering about his
course.

"Who is there?" exclaimed Egremont. But no one answered.

He moved on a little, but very slowly. He felt assured that his ear
caught a contiguous step. He repeated his interrogatory in a louder
tone, but it obtained no response. Again he stopped. Suddenly he was
seized; an iron grasp assailed his throat, a hand of steel griped his
arm. The unexpected onset hurried him on. The sound of waters assured
him that he was approaching the precipitous bank of that part of the
river which, from a ledge of pointed rocks, here formed rapids. Vigorous
and desperate, Egremont plunged like some strong animal on whom a beast
of prey had made a fatal spring. His feet clung to the earth as if they
were held by some magnetic power. With his disengaged arm he grappled
with his mysterious and unseen foe.

At this moment he heard the deep bay of a hound.

"Harold!" he exclaimed. The dog, invisible, sprang forward and seized
upon his assailant. So violent was the impulse that Egremont staggered
and fell, but he fell freed from his dark enemy. Stunned and exhausted,
some moments elapsed before he was entirely himself. The wind had
suddenly changed; a violent gust had partially dispelled the mist; the
outline of the landscape was in many places visible. Beneath him
were the rapids of the Mowe, over which a watery moon threw a f